


We’ve Been Here Before

by yourpricelessadvice



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Harry is 44 and Louis is 46, Harry is dad, Hospitals, Kid Fic, Louis is pop, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Older Harry Styles, Older Louis Tomlinson, Pregnant Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, mentioned only - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27617122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourpricelessadvice/pseuds/yourpricelessadvice
Summary: Harry and Louis' last child has just flown the nest; they've got the house all to themselves for the first time in twenty six years. Fate, however, has other plans for the couple.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 23
Kudos: 146





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Welcome to my fic, We've Been Here Before! I hope you enjoy! I'd be overjoyed to read your comments!
> 
> Title is from Sign of the Times.
> 
> Two notes: the miscarriage is not between the main characters. In this timeline, Jay passed away several years prior to the start of the story, and Fizzy is alive but only mentioned by name a few times.
> 
> I hope I've caught all the mistakes in editing but if there is anything, I do apologise!

“Our baby’s left home, Lou.”

Harry glances across to the other sofa where his husband is lounged in the corner, propped up on one elbow with the telly remote balanced on his thigh, seemingly unbothered.

Louis notches the volume up and replies without taking his eyes off the screen. “Harry, she’s been gone almost a week now, love.”

“I know,” Harry pouts, sitting forward. “I know, I just… it’s just hit me. Again.”

“She’s a big girl, babe.” 

“She’s only just turned twenty,” Harry counters. “She’s my baby!”

“Harry, you had a toddler, a boyfriend  _ and _ a home at Emily’s age, don’t give me that.”

“Hmm,” Harry harrumphs. “I’m sad and pining, Lou, pay attention to me.”

Louis rolls his eyes but Harry spies a little smile tugging on his lips. Feeling suitably vindicated, Harry pulls himself off the sofa and crawls on his knees across the carpet to the other sofa. Harry throws himself into Louis’ lap, wrapping his arms around him awkwardly and nestling into his soft tummy.

Louis sighs raggedly, but his resolve is obviously slipping. “How old are you?!”

“Forty-four, and don’t remind me.” Harry mumbles into Louis’ black t-shirt. He slips his hands underneath the material, shamelessly groping the warm skin beneath. It’s always been a weird pleasure for Harry, Louis’ skin. “Louis, I’m sad. I need cheering up.”

“Love, you’re fine,” Louis tries to dismiss Harry, glancing straight past him to the telly, but Harry’s not giving up that easily.

He removes a hand from under Louis’ t-shirt and replaces it over his dick. Louis’ already a little firm beneath his joggers, and Harry doesn’t know whether to be surprised or not. 

Harry is aware of Louis’ breath hitching as he presses down just a bit firmer, cupping his hand around the shape beneath the material with a bit more vigour than before. 

“Harry, love…”

“Shh,” Harry whispers, shaking his head and furrowing his brow as he makes the executive decision to reach for the waistband of Louis’ joggers. Louis, for all his previous attempts at dissuading Harry, moves freely to give Harry a better angle. He swings his legs round and Harry moves back and then into the space between his husbands’ knees. He quickly pulls down the joggers – God bless elasticated waistbands – to reveal Louis’ thighs. His tanned, glorious thighs; dusted with golden hair that thickens and darkens around his balls and the base of his dick then trails off around his bellybutton before thinning out, with a light speckling over his chest.

“I’m horny,” Harry mentions, as if it wasn’t obvious. “We can have sex on the sofa now, Lou. Can we have sex on the sofa please, Lou?”

Louis snorts softly and Harry glances up from where he’s poised, Louis’ half-hard cock laying against his thigh, slightly curved and pink and delicious looking. Louis looks back at him, eyes wide and hungry and Harry takes that as consent.

He burrows his cheek into Louis’ thigh, taking in a deep breath. He opens his mouth and pokes out his tongue, the tip just reaching the impossibly soft, clear skin of Louis’ shaft. He lifts his head off Louis’ thigh and captures the head of his cock between his lips. He lathers Louis up with the flat of his tongue and his foreskin rolls down with the pressure of his mouth.

Harry can’t get Louis all the way to the back of his throat at this angle, but he’ll get as damn near close as he can. He whimpers to himself as he works, as his imagination runs away from him and Louis responds to the sensation with a buck of his hips and a ragged moan.

“If you wanna have sofa sex you’d better stop sucking me off like that, love.” 

He gives Louis one last suck down before popping off the top with a satisfying smack. Louis pulls his joggers down the rest of the way and then reaches out for Harry’s. They switch places seamlessly, Harry going from poised between Louis’ legs to having his own legs spread wide open and bent back almost folding him in half. It’s certainly been a while since he was this exposed, and even though they now live alone, the rush of feeling like they could get caught is quite exhilarating. Harry feels a bit like a teenager again.

“Gonna taste you,” Louis announces, running a dry fingertip down Harry’s perineum from his balls and down over his hole. Harry can only breathe a bit heavier in response. Louis presses his hands flat over the backs of Harry’s thighs, taking some of the pressure off so Harry can focus on his breathing and actually enjoying what's about to happen.

And God, he turns to jelly as he feels for the first time the juxtaposition of Louis’ bristly beard and the softness of his tongue. Harry practically squeals as Louis licks him once more, getting the whole area nice and spit-slick so that the brush of breath against his skin is cool like ice. Harry doesn't have long to get used to it before the heat of Louis’ tongue is back again, this time pressing against him with more intent. Louis drives Harry crazy going for it, he’s always had the ability to drive Harry crazy, and his muscles relax around the gentle but insistent pressure of Louis’ tongue.

“Fuck, baby,” Harry gasps breathlessly as Louis pushes past his resistance. “Forgot how- ah,  _ good  _ you are, baby.”

Louis doesn’t respond – verbally at least. Instead, he continues to lick inside and around and taste every intimate inch of Harry. He sighs and whines high in his throat as he does it, and Harry’s just about blind with the thrill of it all. When a finger slides suddenly but smoothly into him in place of Louis’ tongue, he yells out.

“Fucking... hell baby, yes!”

One finger is soon two and then three, and by that stage Harry is almost crying with desperation and trying to keep his legs propped up whilst coming undone with what Louis is doing to him.

“Please Lou,” Harry rasps, letting go of one leg to use his hand to wipe away sweat from his forehead. Harry’s worn out limbs give up and his leg falls to rest on the top of the back of the sofa. “Lou, I need it. Need you now, babe.” 

“Okay baby,” Louis lifts his head from between Harry’s knees, his cheeks flushed and mouth red and shiny. 

Harry whimpers as Louis’ fingers slip from inside him, and again with the sharp ache that flares through his lower back as he brings his legs down. Louis tugs himself languidly and springs from his knees to his feet effortlessly; Harry hates him a little bit for that.

“Lay back,” Louis tells him, lowering himself onto one knee between Harry’s open legs and gripping the back of the sofa for support. He uses his other hand to bring Harry’s legs back up and then settles his hips against Harry’s bum. Harry’s not sure where the lube comes from – he makes a mental note to enquire later – but Louis drizzles some over Harry and himself then rolls his hips forward a few times to tease Harry. 

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” Louis mutters, a look of concentration on his face as he reaches down between their bodies.

“Fill me up, Lou.” Harry agrees as Louis guides his cockhead inside.

“I will, baby,” Louis promises, letting out a shaky breath as he bottoms out. Deep inside Harry’s heat and skin to skin, Louis lets go of the back of the sofa and lowers himself on top of Harry. Harry wraps his legs tightly around Louis’ body to try and gain even just a few millimetres more of him, even though Louis is balls deep already. 

Louis drops a kiss on Harry’s cheekbone then draws back and starts to move his hips. He fucks into Harry shallowly at first, no more than about two or three inches, until Harry can’t take it any longer. 

“Lou, I need you,” He whimpers, gripping tightly to Louis’ bicep, leaving behind pale imprints of his fingertips. “Need more, need you.”

“I know, baby,” Louis replies, catching Harry’s eye momentarily before burrowing down and thrusting deep into Harry as far as he can. “Yeah, like that?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Harry hisses, his voice shaking as Louis pounds him further and further into the sofa. His thighs and the V of his hips are burning hot, but he’s not giving in. In fact, an idea pops into his head and he  _ has _ to act on it. 

“Wanna ride you,” Harry croaks out as Louis continues to wreck him, apparently too into it to hear Harry. “Lou, let me ride you. Wanna ride.”

Louis looks up at that, stilling his thrusts as he processes the request. Then, catching up finally, he nods hurriedly and pulls out. Harry yelps at the loss of sensation, but he knows what’s coming in a few moments is going to be amazing. 

They switch places once again, Louis returning to his original position on the sofa. Harry throws a leg over Louis’ lap and settles down, feeling the press of Louis’ warm, slick cock against his skin. Somehow, that feels as good as actually having Louis inside him feels. Nevertheless, he lifts his weight off Louis’ hips and reaches behind to guide the length back in.

Harry shrieks with breathless pleasure at the heightened sensations with this new angle. He bloody loves this; he could ride Louis until the end of time and it still wouldn’t be enough. He begins to move his hips, gripping the sofa with one hand and Louis’ shoulder with the other. He rocks back and forth, lifting his pelvis up and down on Louis until his sweaty, out of control hair becomes too much of a burden in his eyes.

Harry throws his head back to get the loose straggly hairs out of his face, and without stopping the rolling motion of his hips he gathers his unruly mop of hair up and holds it in place with both hands.

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis moans, his eyes dark and stormy and fixed on Harry’s distended body. “You look so good like that, baby.” 

Harry thrives on the compliment and arches his back even further, holding his tummy muscles in as tightly as he can and stretching his shoulders outwards as best he can to elongate his torso and lift his pecs.

“Gonna make me come.”

“Yeah, baby. Come, please. Fill me up.”

Louis matches Harry’s bounces with upwards thrusts of his hips, and Harry’s overwhelming desire and race towards Louis’ orgasm blend together and they end up a bit uncoordinated and sloppy as they reach the finish line together. Nonetheless, Harry reaches down to bring himself to the edge point but no sooner does he get a shaking, sweaty palm around himself, Louis bats his hand away and takes over. They both crash into their orgasms within a few seconds of each other, a fug of sex and heat and pure delirium all around them. 

Harry’s arms completely give out once he’s come, and he collapses on top of Louis, smudging his slick between their bodies. Louis shudders his way through his orgasm and Harry can feel their hearts beating against each other as he nuzzles into Louis’ neck. 

“I love you,” He murmurs against Louis’ skin.

“Love you too, babe.” Louis runs a hand up and down Harry’s back, squeezing his shoulder. “Now gerroff me, you lump.”

Harry rolls his eyes and huffs. The only thing with sofa sex is that you can’t roll off your partner and collapse onto the sofa to catch your breath due to the bodily fluids that bed sheets would otherwise disguise. Therefore, Harry has to waddle awkwardly, cheeks clenched, to fetch his joggers and pull them back on until he can get to the shower.

“Oh, where were you hiding the lube, babe?” Harry asks later when it pops into his mind when he’s cooking their stir fry.

Louis looks up from where he’s sat at the dinner table pouring over his tablet. His eyes are dazzling and mirthful. “Can’t a boy have any secrets, Haz?”

  
  
  


The house is full again on Sunday for lunch. Jamie, their second boy and middle child, arrives first with a bag of wet washing that he wants Louis to stick in the tumble dryer. Alex, their eldest, and his fiancée Claire arrive next, and just as Harry is getting the roast potatoes out of the oven to turn them, the doorbell goes again and the sound of his youngest baby returning to the nest fills the air.

Harry’s heart does an excited little flip in his chest as his daughter appears in the doorway.

“Emily!” Harry yells, too excited to give the potatoes a second thought. He drops the tray rather unceremoniously onto the worktop and dashes around the counter to scoop his baby up into a big bear hug.

“Hi, dad!” Emily laughs as Harry tangles her up in his arms. “Dad! Let go, you’re squeezing the life outta me!” 

“I just missed you!” Harry reasons, letting his daughter go. 

“I’ve only been gone a week, dad!” Emily points out. “Not even a full week.”

“Is your dad bleating on again, Ems?” Louis appears in the kitchen to rescue Emily from Harry. Louis gives Emily a much more refined hug and a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you, love.”

“She’s my baby, what do you expect?” Harry argues as he moves back to his potatoes.

“There was none of this hysteria when I moved out!” Alex interrupts, nudging Louis with his elbow. 

“Glad to see the back of you, we were!” Jamie japes, and everyone laughs. Louis has to tell Alex off for telling his brother where to go.

Harry keeps out of it, watching with glee and with pride as his family joke and banter with each other. A house full of laughter and happy people is what he’d always wanted, and he thinks he and Louis have done a pretty good job of creating the perfect family home where everyone feels welcomed, valued and most of all, part of the family no matter who they are. 

The house has seen hundreds of faces over the years; friends of the kids, friends of his and Louis’, girlfriends, boyfriends… fiancées (Harry had hit the roof with joy when Jamie told them his plans). Harry may not remember some of the mums that he befriended at the parent groups, or their little darlings that baby Alex had played with. He doesn’t remember most of the names of the lads that Jamie befriended through primary school, or any of the girlfriends that lasted all of two weeks. He remembers, clearly, the boyfriend Emily brought back to meet them at age seventeen. That was probably the closest they’ve ever come to divorce, their  _ very _ different ideas on whether Emily was old enough for a boyfriend. Louis had pointed out that Harry was seventeen when they met, and that Harry at the time was nursing a broken heart at the hands of the boy he  _ thought _ was The One. Harry had argued that it was different because Emily’s a girl, and a sensitive one at that, and above all else, she was his baby. Louis had called him sexist and accused him of having outdated ideas. Harry had cried, Emily had cried, Louis had remained stoic throughout, but eventually Emily brought Ryan back to meet her dads and Harry and Louis were picture perfect parents the entire time. Harry insisted he was happy for her, but when the breakup came seven months later, he’d secretly been relieved.

After being in the kitchen all afternoon, Harry doesn’t feel like eating. He plates himself up the smallest of the dinners, the biggest going to Alex as it always has done. The boy must have hollow legs. Just being around the table with his kids, the love of his life and his daughter-in-law-to-be is enough for him. 

  
  
  


Life carries on as normal outside of their home. Nobody cares that Harry’s babies have all grown up and flown the nest now. Nobody has time to stop and chat about the good old days. Harry and Louis go to work together in the morning, Louis adding a good few minutes onto his daily commute dropping Harry off at work before going on to the school where he works as a pastoral care mentor.

In the evenings, Louis pulls up outside Harry’s work at quarter past five and they kiss over the centre console and ask each other how their day was. It’s always been the routine. They go home, and instead of making three plates up, they just make two. It takes about a month or so for Harry to become completely (well, more or less) adjusted to his new life. 

  
  
  


Harry loves his job. He’s been working at Casterley Park stately home since Emily was eighteen months old, starting out as part of the waiting staff team before graduating to dining room manager, and now senior venue coordinator, which he’s been doing for the past eight and a half years. He’s proud of all of his team and the place runs like absolute clockwork. They do weddings, conferences, private parties and corporate events, but weddings are far and away Harry’s favourite bit of the job. 

With the arrival of May, wedding season is in full swing. Casterley Park has a wedding three weekends out of four this month, and Harry’s couple are first up during the first weekend of the month. Outside of wedding planning, they’ve got several midweek conferences and a few functions, but Harry’s energy really is poured into the wedding. 

He’s met the happy couple, Lisa and Cameron, twice before; once when they arrived at Casterley for a tour in October of last year and once about a month ago when they’d arrived with the final instalment for their wedding. Now, with just over forty eight hours to go until the big day, he’s meeting them for the third time to go over the final plans for their big day.

Lisa and Cameron are his first appointment of the day; Harry’s been at work since just after eight and it’s approaching nine now. Lisa and Cameron will be arriving in the next few minutes, but Harry’s suddenly come over all tired and nauseous.

He puts it down to pre-wedding (planner) jitters, but it’s unusual for Harry to get antsy with customers. A glass of water and a couple of paracetamol should do the trick. 

But it doesn’t. Harry manages to get through the meeting with Lisa and Cameron, though it's touch and go at some points. When they’re standing by the big floor-to-ceiling windows, the ones with the fantastic views of the grounds, the sun on Harry’s back renders him just about ready to pass out, but when they cross to the other side of the ceremony room to discuss the finer points of flowers, he feels a bit better. Still, he keeps his hip cocked against the side of the desk for a bit of moral support.

Just when Harry begins to think Cameron and Lisa are never going to leave, they do. Harry heads straight for the staff room behind reception, throwing himself at the nearest chair and catching his head in his hands. Leaning forward and having something to prop his head up with helps, but then an almighty wave of sickness roils through his tummy and his mouth fills with the awful acidic taste of bile.

It’s not enough for Harry to actually want to be sick, but it makes his vision go spotty and his skin clammy. He sits absolutely stock still for a few moments until the feeling begins to pass. Then, he grabs some water, has a wee and then forgets about it for the rest of the day.

  
  
  


As he normally does the day before a wedding, Harry takes a half day on Friday. He’s glad for it too, because he’s absolutely exhausted by the time one PM rolls around. He’s spent the morning flitting around the Farnborough Suite ahead of tomorrow’s ceremony, making sure the chair decorators are using the right colour sashes and that the centrepieces for the wedding breakfast are all present and correct. The florist will be arriving tomorrow at eleven thirty, and he’s made sure to ring ahead to the registrar’s office to triple-check the booking for tomorrow.

Now it’s all done, all he has to do is lock up the finance office and he can escape.

The taxi he’d ordered whilst simultaneously on the phone with the registry office pulls up just as Harry exits the building; perfect timing. 

**To - Lou:** _Hi darling, finished for the day now and on my way home. Don’t work too hard this afternoon. See you tonight, love you xo_

Harry sends Louis a quick text whilst in the taxi. His husband is quick to reply; quarter past one means lunchtime for Louis. That continues until just before two PM.

**From – Lou:** _Back to the grind now babe. Love you, part timer. See you tonight xo_

Harry grins to himself like a teenager with a crush. It’s comforting, though; knowing that even after all these years Louis can still make his cheeks blush and his heart beat a little faster. Harry hadn’t mentioned feeling poorly to Louis; he’d only make a fuss. 

When he gets back, the silence enrobing their home is actually a comfort to Harry. Progress, that is. Harry prepares himself a cheese and ham salad sandwich then heads to the living room. He grabs a blanket on his way to the sofa and curls up on his side beneath the fleece. And that’s how Louis finds him, three and a half hours later, sandwich untouched and going crusty.

“Haz?” Louis repeats himself for perhaps the fifth time.

Harry cracks open one eye. Deliriously he opens the other and blinks away his disorientation. For a moment, Harry can’t work out why Louis is home from work already, it’s barely lunchtime.

“What are you doing here?”

Louis smirks. “It’s after half five, Harry. I’ve just got home from work.”

“Half five?” Harry asks, pulling himself to sitting. “God, sorry; I must’ve nodded off there. I guess I was tired.”

“I guess you were!” Louis laughs. “You’ve been busy with the wedding coming up, it’s understandable.”

Harry forces himself properly awake and gets comfortable on the sofa while Louis potters around changing out of his work clothes and putting the kettle on, his usual post-work routine. He comes back with a tea for himself, a coffee for Harry and some biscuits to share.

“Nice and strong to boost you up a bit,” Louis explains of the coffee. Harry peers over the rim at the quivering black liquid. His face must reflect the nauseous feeling in his tummy because Louis snorts. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing!” Harry yelps, taking a sip to be polite, even though above all else it’s absolutely scalding hot. “It’s perfect, thanks babe!”

  
  
  


Later that evening, Harry can’t face cooking and so suggests getting a takeaway. Louis doesn’t take much persuading. It’s then a tough decision to make between Indian, Chinese and pizza, but eventually Chinese wins out when Harry finds himself with a sudden unquenchable urge for noodles and prawn toast.

“That was bloody delicious!” Harry declares, pushing his plate to one side and sinking back into the sofa.

Louis smirks at him from across the room. He still has a couple of pieces of chicken remaining. “You inhaled that, Haz.”

“Must’ve needed it,” Harry replies. “Chicken soup is good for the soul, after all.”

“Chicken soup, maybe, but not so sure about chicken sweet and sour style.”

“Don’t be so negative,” Harry deadpans, and then, “Come sit with me?”

Louis puts on a pretend concerned face. “The last time you asked me to sit with you we ended up in  _ very _ compromising positions.”

Harry throws his head back and groans. “Shut up and kiss me!” He shouts at the ceiling.

Louis doesn’t need to be told twice.


	2. Chapter 2

The day of the wedding dawns bright and clear. The wedding party will be dashing about in blind panic ahead of the ceremony at two PM, but Harry isn’t expected at Casterley until eleven.

He’s feeling a little tender but puts it down to last night’s takeaway and the anticipation of the afternoon. He rolls onto his side from his tummy and that feels better. 

“Lou?” He whispers, prodding his husband’s cheek. Louis doesn’t respond the first time so he tries again, and Louis’ brows furrow into a sleepy frown. A third time, Harry pokes Louis’ cheekbone and this time Louis opens his eyes. 

“Stop it!” Louis grunts, reaching out to blindly swat at Harry. “I’m asleep, it’s flippin’ Saturday!”

“Can’t we have a little cuddle before I have to get up for work?” Harry pouts.

“Yes,” Louis replies without opening his eyes. “So long as you stop poking me in me face we can do whatever you want.”

“Oooh,” Harry perks up. “That a promise is it?”

It ends up a little nearer to ten than Harry would like when he finally rolls out of bed and into the shower. Still, the warm spray and invigorating tingly mint shampoo helps to blow away the cobwebs. He dresses in his best pressed black trousers and crisp white shirt, silver cufflinks at his wrists and a blue silk tie at his neck. His suit jacket he’ll drape over the passenger seat and slip into on the way up the gravel path towards the entrance to Casterley.

Louis is asleep again by the time Harry is ready to leave, so he leans over and leaves a soft kiss on his forehead for later.

  
  
  


Harry arrives at Casterley, pops into his office quickly to turn on the computer and then heads out to the guest room to check all of the staff have turned up. He presumes they have, because he didn’t have any frantic phone calls.

He finds Terry first, the dining room manager. “Morning Tez, how’s everything going?”

Terry nods. “Morning mate, yeah everything’s to schedule so far. The catering team is setting up; final check of the centrepieces was fine; the bridal party is upstairs getting ready; the florist is due in about…” He checks his wristwatch, “half an hour.”

“Great stuff, cheers mate.”

Harry continues through to the Farnborough Suite. He can hear the hubbub and it gives him a little rush; he’d remarry Louis every weekend if he could, but as that would be a bit of a logistical nightmare he’ll settle for being involved in other people’s weddings instead. It’s just as good. 

At the end of 2005, civil partnerships were legalised and as soon as they were able to, the sixth of January 2006 to be precise, they had their ceremony at a registry office with their mum’s and Harry’s stepdad as their guests. Afterwards, their five sisters, three children and an army of grandparents, cousins, aunties and uncles joined them for a big knees-up. It was perfect in every way; they didn’t need to be legally married to know that they were so totally madly in love and that it was forever. That didn’t stop them finally officially tying the knot in 2014 though.

The bustle of people in and out putting the final touches to the Farnborough Suite is what Harry lives for, other than his kids and his husband. The colour scheme is peach and soft rose, and the unfiltered sunlight streaming through Casterley’s floor-to-ceiling windows bathes the entire space in clear, bright light. 

Harry oversees the arrival of the florist and then disappears to his office for a bit of respite from the commotion ahead of meeting with the bridal party half an hour before the ceremony. The morning of a wedding is always a bit of a panic, and today is no different. It’s warm too, especially in his office which is situated in the middle of the building and hence, is windowless.

Harry stops looking at invoices once the migraine he thought he was fending off becomes too much to bear. Sitting back in his chair, the nausea and tightness in his tummy that he’d also been trying to put off become more pronounced too. He reaches for his water bottle, smiling absently at the photos of the kids on his desk. He gazes at his two boys; both an almost perfect blend of him and Louis. Emily with her blonde hair is the anomaly, but her soft blue eyes are undeniably Tomlinson. Harry still pines for his little girl; her moving out had been tougher than he ever expected and in a way that Alex and Jamie’s flying the nest had never been. The horrible sicky feeling when he thinks about it - and when he  _ isn’t _ thinking about it - still lingers on. 

Harry blinks away some unexpected tears and decides to get up and head up to the bridal suite a little early, rather than keep sitting in his stuffy office getting worked up over the fact that his babies are no longer his babies.

  
  
  


Lisa, the bride, looks lovely. She’s just getting into her dress when Harry knocks on the door of the Beech Suite, and the mother of the bride and maid of honour stall him while she is buttoned up. There are bridesmaids in various stages of readiness at every corner of the beautifully luxurious bridal suite, and perfume and hairspray fight for dominance in Harry’s nostrils as he ventures further in.

“I don’t want to get in the way; I just wanted to pop my head in to check that everything was okay?”

“Yes, a bit of a mad panic, as you can see, but everything’s fine!” The mother of the bride smiles, though Harry can see the nervous quiver of her upper lip as she does. 

“Lovely!” Harry claps his hands together, a bit overzealously. “Well, I’m a tad early so we’ve got a bit of time. They’ll call for you ten minutes before the time of the start of the ceremony, at which point you’ll all make your way downstairs to the Farnborough Suite where I’ll be waiting, and we’ll get the bridal party in order, make sure everyone is sorted, and then it’ll be time to get married!”

“And Cam; is he here? Have you seen him?” Lisa calls from across the room.

“Yes, I’ve seen him not too long ago.” Harry confirms. The groom, best man and father of the groom are all waiting in the Portman Suite, a smaller room meant for meetings that they clear out and replace with several arm chairs from the lounge room when necessary. “Looking very dapper, I’m sure you will agree when you see him!”

Lisa’s eyes positively glisten as she thinks of her husband-soon-to-be, and Harry can feel his own heart strings tugging. He’s always loved love, hence why this job is absolutely perfect for him. He’s never let things at the other end of the spectrum - divorce, hate, loneliness - play too much on his mind. His own parents divorced when he was young and Louis himself had three stepdads growing up, but together the two of them have made it. Twenty five years and three beautiful kids; they were the success story in both of their families and that was all that mattered to Harry. Next stop: grandkids.

Harry leaves them to it as the final touches are applied and the excitement reaches fever pitch. Harry is glad to be out of the room anyway; his stomach is growling and aching and making him feel quite dizzy. Thankfully, it passes after a few minutes perched on one of the windowsills looking out over Casterley’s beautiful gardens, his forehead pressed against the cool glass.

Harry passes the last ten minutes or so with a quick visit to the groom, and then escorts him and his groomsmen to the Farnborough Suite where they wait at the head of the room chattering nervously amongst themselves. As guests start to arrive, the room fills with a frenetic buzz of energy. Harry can feel his palms starting to sweat and tingle; almost show time. He still gets a rush with every wedding.

He moves towards the doors, greeting every guest with a polite smile or a nice ‘good afternoon’. The room is filling up nicely with smart suits, elaborate fascinators and dresses of every colour under the sun. The iPad under his arm vibrates with a message from Natalie who will be escorting the bridal party.

‘5mins, almost at capacity’ Harry messages back, surveying the crowds. A moment or two later, a couple arrive, followed by another and then lastly a woman in a lovely navy gown appears clutching a baby’s dummy. She grins as she scurries past, and with that Harry gets confirmation that all guests have now arrived. He sends another message to Natalie, and motions a thumb up to Cameron up at the altar. 

Harry pulls the double doors to again and heads out to where Natalie, Lisa and her entourage are making their way carefully down the stairs to Farnborough’s interim waiting area. Getting everyone in order is a simpler job than some of the weddings Harry has worked. Lisa’s maid of honour and two bridesmaids line up in order, with Lisa’s six year old niece first in line as flower girl. Then Harry guides the mother-of-the-bride to her spot, and finally Lisa and her dad stand arm in arm at the end of the procession. The music for the walk down the aisle starts up from the other side of the heavy oak doors and Harry signals to Lisa that they’re ready to go. She gives him a watery-eyed smile and a nod and so Harry makes his way to the doors and pulls them open. The congregation all shift in their seats and then rise to their feet for the beginning of the wedding.

It all goes well, of course. Harry gives Ella the flower girl a nod and a smile and off she goes. She’s old enough not to need too much direction. One by one with ten seconds between each one, the bridesmaids make their way down the aisle, then Lisa’s mum who is somewhere between laughing and crying, and then finally the bride and her father. 

“Good luck, you look beautiful!” Harry says softly as they pass.

And then it’s just him and Natalie. They softly high-five as they always do after each successful send-off; it’s a tradition that Harry has maintained throughout his time at Casterley, even if his colleagues have come and gone several times over those years. Natalie heads back to the dining room, and Harry stands just out of sight in the doorway to the Farnborough Suite watching Lisa make her way down the aisle. Then, it’s his cue to go as the twinkling procession music fades. He pulls the door carefully closed and sighs in relief; another wedding in the bag. His duties are done now, though he does like to stick around until at least the photographs. It’s at this point he usually heads ‘backstage’ to the kitchen to see how things are going there, and try to get a peek at the wedding cake in the walk-in fridge if he can. 

  
  
  


“You all right, love, you look a bit peaky?”

Harry had cut short his visit to the kitchen because the smell of the chicken cooking was sending him doolally. He flops down on the nearest bar stool and grimaces, his hopes dashed now that no one else would notice his ashen appearance. 

He peers up at Katie the bartender. “I think I’m just a bit overworked. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“You’ve gone a bit green, Harry.” She tells him, looking worried. Katie’s probably no older than his Emily. “Do you want some water?”

Reluctantly he nods and thanks her when she brings it over. “I’ve just come from the kitchens; the smell of the chicken is turning my stomach and I don’t know why.”

Katie continues to stare at him, chewing her lip. “I was like that when I was pregnant.”

Harry smiles wistfully. “I didn’t know you were a mum, Kate.”

“Yeah, my Reuben is nearly eighteen months,” Katie beams. Harry recognises that look; pride, love, adoration. “I loved chicken before I was pregnant; KFC, Nando’s, Sunday roast; you name it, I loved it. Now? Can’t even stomach roast chicken flavour Walkers!”

“That’s unfortunate,” Harry smiles, though right now he would be inclined to agree with the sentiment. “I don’t think mine is down to pregnancy, though.”

He laughs, and only afterwards does he start to worry that maybe he was a bit too maniacal. Katie looks at him, smiling softly. “You never know!”

  
  
  


Harry’s Sunday is spent mostly horizontal on the sofa, and the nausea seems to abate. 

The week that follows is a quiet one, very ordinary. Every morning they go to work and come home in the evening. On Tuesday evening Jamie pops in, Emily phones on Wednesday evening for a chat and then on Friday they see Alex and Claire very briefly on their way out for dinner.

“Speaking of dinner,” Louis says as he closes the front door. “What do you fancy?”

Harry shrugs and follows Louis into the kitchen, but he pulls a face at almost everything Louis suggests; fish, pasta, stir fry, curry, sandwiches.

“Takeaway again then?” Louis suggests clearly getting a bit fed up. “Sweet and sour chicken?”

Just the mere mention of chicken throws Harry’s body into turmoil; the niggling nauseous feeling that had been eating away at him earlier in the week hits him from nowhere like a bullet in the dark. “No, definitely not that!”

“Oh, fucking starve then!” Louis exclaims, his fuse obviously having just ran out. 

“Lou!”

“What?! Sorry but you’re pissing me off, Haz! Why are you acting so miserable for? Is this still because of Emily?”

“What? No! I’ve just… gone off chicken, I think.”

Louis snorts incredulously. “Oh, Jesus! You know, you really take the fucking piss sometimes, Harry! Just when I think you’ve outdone yourself with  _ ridiculousness _ , you go that one step further!”

“I’m not being ridiculous, I’m-” Harry stops himself, but not quickly enough.

“You’re what?” Louis snaps, and Harry opens his mouth but Louis isn’t done yet, apparently. “An idiot?”

“Lou, stop it please! I have to tell you something, I think, and I don’t… I don’t know if I’m right or not but someone mentioned it to me last week and I laughed it off but since then it’s been sticking in my mind and I’m a bit scared now that they might be right.”

Louis looks sceptical. “Right...”

“Okay, so. I uh, I think I’m - and keep in mind, this is just speculation at this point and probably one hundred per cent  _ ridiculous _ as you say, but uh, I’m wondering if, perhaps, I might be pregnant?”

Louis doesn't react. He stares Harry down long and hard, and it feels like time has ground to a halt. He can barely see Louis’ chest rising and falling with his breathing and suddenly, everything feels cold and lumpy inside his own chest.

“Lou?” He croaks. “Lou, say something?”

Louis’ eyes meet Harry’s, and he has a quizzical, disbelieving look on his face like he’s seeing Harry for the very first time. “Harry, we… I’m… what?”

“It’s probably stupid, Lou, but it’s been going ‘round my head all day and the more I think about it the more it feels like it could be true!”

“Damn right it’s stupid!” Louis explodes, but somehow he doesn't seem angry anymore. “Harry, you’re forty-four for Christ sake! Our twenty year old has literally just moved out! Are you hearing yourself right now, love?  _ Why _ on Earth would this be the first place your brain goes to?”

Harry doesn't really know anything anymore. “I don’t know, alright?! I just had a feeling! I mean…”

“What?” 

“It sort of fits?” Harry says sheepishly. “The last time we… y’know. Just after Em moved out? That was about six weeks ago now wasn’t it, and for the last week or so I’ve been feeling sick, and tired. It would… make sense.”

“Harry,  _ nothing  _ you're saying right now makes sense!” Louis laughs. “We’re a couple of old blokes in our mid-forties; we’re parents of people in their twenties! Even if I thought for  _ one minute _ that there was any chance you were knocked up, I really can’t see how you’re being so calm about this!”

“Would you not be happy?” Harry asks, feeling a lump swell in his throat. “I thought you’d be happy!”

“Harry!” Louis yells again. “I'm not  _ not _ happy, love but you’re getting carried away here! There isn't even anything to be happy over yet, remember? Don’t get swept away, love.”

“What do we do?” Harry asks. “I don’t know what to do, Lou. Do I test? Do I just ignore it and hope it goes away? What if I am pregnant and we don’t test and I do something to hurt the baby? Or what if I’m not pregnant and we test and it’s negative and I...”

“You what, babe?” Louis asks quietly.

Harry swallows around the firm mass that has now moved up his throat and into his mouth. “I really want this baby, Lou. I never realised it until today, but I really, really want this. I love them already. They might not even exist but I love them already. What the hell is wrong with me?”

Louis smiles softly. “Nothing’s wrong with you, babe. How about… how about we test? Put your mind at ease either way?”

Harry peers up at Louis through teary eyes that he truly hadn't been expecting. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Louis grins. “I’ll be by your side, no matter what.”

  
  
  


It was already half past nine in the evening when Harry had told Louis, and the logical thing to do would be to wait until morning, but now that Harry has the idea in his mind, he has to know. So, they bundle into the car and head to the 24-hour Tesco to try their luck.

Turns out, pregnancy tests have increased exponentially in cost in the twenty-odd years since Harry has last required one.

“Fourteen quid?!” Louis hisses under his breath, nudging Harry with his elbow. “Fourteen quid for those ones, H!”

“That’s a pack of three,” Harry points out. “What about these?”

Harry holds up the box of Clearblue tests for Louis to see. ‘Six days early’ it claims. 

“How much are they?”

“Tenner,” Harry answers. “Could just get the Tesco brand ones, but...”

He trickles off, with the hopes that Louis will just leave him to purchase the Clearblue’s in peace. And thankfully, he does.

“Yeah, go for it. Can we go to the sweetie aisle, while we’re here?”

Harry rolls his eyes and laughs as he grabs the twin-pack of tests and follows Louis in search of sweet treats.

  
  
  


The person who’d served them in Tesco was full of premature congratulations for them, and Harry can’t help but let himself get swept away by the illusion of his impending fatherhood, despite the fact the tests are both still in their box and other than a bit of nausea he is completely symptomless. 

“Are you gonna do the test now?” Louis asks, glaring at the box in Harry’s hand. 

“Yeah,” Harry nods. He’d guzzled a Tropicana in the car on the way home especially. “Yeah, gimme five minutes or so?”

“Sure,” Louis nods. Harry sits down in the living room and stays there, unmoving on the couch while Louis potters around somewhere doing something. He's not sure how long it’s been when the pressure on his bladder finally becomes enough that he thinks he could manage a wee.

Harry pulls himself to his feet and goes off in search of Louis.

“Hey,” Harry greets Louis when he finds him in the spare bedroom drawing the curtains. They never draw the curtains, even in their own bedroom, so Louis is obviously as antsy about this as Harry is. 

“Hi love,” Louis whispers. He clears his throat softly. “Ready?”

Harry nods. He's too nervous to speak now. 

“How are we gonna do this then?” Louis asks. “Shall I just… shall I wait in the bedroom while you… do the do?”

Harry nods and takes the box of tests out of the plastic wrap. There are two but he’ll only need one, obviously. He picks one and takes it with him to the loo, looking over at Louis one more time before he goes.

Terrified he’s going to do it wrong and waste not only a test but a wee too, Harry reads the instructions three times before tugging at his fly and settling on the toilet. It’ll be easier to aim sitting down, he remembers from previous times.

Once he’s sitting, it feels like it’ll never happen, but finally he feels the pressure start to relieve and so reaches between his thighs with the test poised. Then, once he’s going it’s like it’ll never stop. Luckily, the test has a cap so once he’s done and put himself back together again, the business end of the test is covered and very discreet. He flushes, takes a couple of deep breaths and then heads to the bedroom to find Louis. 

Louis looks up as Harry falters in the doorway. “All done?”

Harry nods. “Got three minutes to wait now. God, I’m nervous.”

Louis gives him a small, sympathetic smile. “Me too.” He motions for Harry to come in and sit next to him. 

Harry perches gingerly on the end of the bed next to Louis, still clutching the test. His hands are clammy and he’s unable to muster up even some meaningless small talk to pass the time and Louis doesn’t try to force it either. He just reaches behind and wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders. Harry leans in and rests his head on Louis’ chest.

Three minutes take forever when you’re counting them so closely, Harry discovers. They stay in acquiescent silence for as long as Harry can bear it, but he has to say something eventually.

“It’s been three minutes by now, surely?”

Louis lets out a deep breath that he’d obviously been holding onto but Harry hadn’t noticed. “Yeah, it’s gotta be. Go on, have a look, I’m dying here.”

Harry has had his hand wrapped tightly over the window in the test, so when he unfurls his fingers the window is a bit foggy, but it’s unmistakable and clear to both of them that there is a line in each box. There’s certainly no mistaking the result.

“Is that…?”

Harry swallows hard. “Yeah.”

“Harry?”

“Fucking hell…”

They’re having a baby.

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

They've been here three times before, of course.

The very first time Harry was only 18, terrified of what his 20 year old boyfriend would say when he found out they were going to be parents after only three months of dating. The second time they were 22 and 24 and absolutely overjoyed to be adding to their family. The third time was just five and a half months after the birth of their second son, leaving them daunted but ultimately excited to complete their family with their third and final child. 

Well… final child until today, that is. 

Harry’s still in shock ten minutes later. Louis hasn't said anything. He's got up, disappeared somewhere and Harry can hear him pottering about, but he can’t bring himself to get up and go and look for him. His hands gravitate naturally to the softness of his belly. Now that he’s in his mid-forties (really since his early thirties, if he’s honest) Harry is soft around his middle and the tone that he’d once had is gone. He's managed to keep relatively trim but his belly is more pillowy than chiselled nowadays. He finds it hard to imagine there’s a little life nestled low and deep inside his belly. 

He stops and thinks about what a new baby at their ages really means. He mulls over what a pregnancy is going to do to his body and his hormones. He chews the fat over what being the dad in the playground in his mid-fifties is going to be like. He deliberates the fact that between his eldest and his youngest there will be an age gap of twenty six years. He weighs up the very probable possibility of Jamie or Alex or even Emily being mistaken for the child’s parent and himself and Louis being mistaken for grandparents. Not to mention, the inevitable shame of their kids realising that yes, their dad’s still do it from time to time. 

Harry finds himself giggling; first a little chuckle and then soon he’s laughing uncontrollably, perhaps in hysteria and delirium more than anything. 

“What’s so funny?” Louis’ voice comes from the bedroom doorway, and Harry whips around.

“I...” Harry begins, trying to compose himself. His cheeks redden with warmth. “I was just thinking about telling the boys and Emily; and their faces when it dawns on them that we’re still shagging.”

Louis dissolves into giggles too and joins Harry on the bed, and just like that everything feels right with the world again. Louis takes Harry’s hands and they shuffle up the bed, falling into position curled around each other with Louis’ foot shoved between Harry’s ankles. 

“Are we bloody mental?” Louis asks through his laughter. “I can’t flippin’ believe this, H! A baby! I thought we were  _ long  _ finished with this lark!”

“Me too!” Harry chuckles. He lets go of Louis’ hands and guides them down to where his soft tummy relaxes on the bed. “We’ve made life, Lou. We’ve still bloody got it!”

“Can’t believe we’re going to have four kids, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry replies dreamily.

“Here, how much do Pampers cost nowadays, anyway? ‘Cause if they’re anything like the pregnancy tests I think I’d better re-mortgage the house.”

“The supermarket nappies are meant to be really good,” Harry says, and Louis gives him a questioning look. “I’ve not been like, researching or anything. I just heard.”

“You just heard,” Louis repeats sarcastically. “My child will have only the best,” He declares, shimmying down the bed to nuzzle Harry’s belly. “Won’t you, my little darling? Yes you will. You’re going to grow big and healthy in daddy’s tummy and then we’ll go to the hospital to meet you and I, your Pop, will be the very first person to get a cuddle, won’t I? Yes I will.”

Harry lets out an involuntary yelp, and Louis peers up from his low vantage point questioningly. It’s almost painful how much his heart is in love with Louis at this exact moment, and apparently the only way to portray that is with weird noises.

“Sorry, just… I really, really love you, Lou.”

Louis smiles bashfully and even in the shadows Harry can see his cheeks tinge pink. “I love you too, Haz. My baby daddy.”

  
  
  


Over the weekend, the anniversary of Jay’s passing comes and goes. Louis has had years to get used to it – Louis’ words, not Harry’s – but it still hurts. Harry watches out for his husband all weekend, in their own little bubble which starts with breakfast in bed on Saturday and ends with a long bubble bath on Sunday evening. In between, there is a lot of tummy kissing and baby talk and misty eyed smiles.

“It should be  _ me _ treating  _ you _ , not the other way round!” Louis comments, but Harry just touches his finger to his lips and that’s that.

Come Monday morning, the first thing Harry does once it turns eight AM is call their local surgery.

“Morning, I was hoping to make an appointment with one of the doctor’s as soon as possible please, I’m pregnant!”

Harry hadn't meant to get straight to the point so quickly, but his excitement got the better of him. Louis rolls his eyes fondly across the room. Nonetheless, Harry beams when the equally as enthusiastic and chipper receptionist congratulates him and offers him an appointment the very next afternoon.

Butterflies beat their wings rapidly against Harry’s chest wall as he confirms the appointment and gives his details. He can’t believe it’s happening so quickly. He can’t wait for tomorrow, but first he has to get through the day at work without saying anything. 

Louis drops him off and says two goodbyes, one to Harry and one to baby, which puts a lump in Harry’s throat immediately. He waves Louis off and then saunters up the gravel path into Casterley, pleased as punch and wondering if it’s as obvious as he feels it is.

The lull after a wedding weekend is always an odd one; it feels like there’s nothing to do, but Harry does in fact have several events upcoming this week so he doesn't get too much time to get complacent. Today, they’ve got three meetings in the morning and then a full schedule for afternoon tea from noon until five. Harry would like to just do weddings and afternoon tea full time but he has to be seen to be professional. 

When the meetings are in process Harry feels a bit like a glorified tea lady. He’s kept busy rushing back and forth with drinks and advising people where the toilets are. Being busy keeps his mind off his symptoms, but strangely they seem to be under control today. He’s not sure whether he’s just been allowed a day off from them or whether now he knows what’s causing them his body and mind are better equipped at dealing with them. 

He does begin to worry, though, once the myriad of smells of afternoon tea start floating through from the kitchens, but so long as Carlo keeps the coronation chicken sandwiches off the menu today, Harry’ll be all right.

There are regulars that come to Casterley for afternoon tea often, so Harry catches up with quite a few familiar faces in the afternoon. Though it’s not strictly his job to wait the tables or even be on the floor, he likes it and so always makes time to venture out of his office and help the waiting staff. He does have to go back to his office eventually though; invoices are stacking up from the weekend. 

Harry wiggles his mouse and his computer screen lights up. He logs in and opens up Sage Pay, and only manages to get through one before he’s opening up a discreet Google page to look at pushchairs. 

The options are tenfold and the price tags eye watering, but it leaves Harry hungry for more. He tells himself sternly to wait until the first scan and makes a promise to himself that he will start looking properly after that.

  
  
  


Harry fakes illness and takes Tuesday off work. He uses the frenetic energy running around his body ahead of his appointment later to completely blitz the house from top to bottom.

“I thought nesting came at the end of pregnancy, not the start?” Louis asks with a bemused smile when he comes home early at one o’clock. 

Harry just shakes it off and leads Louis around the ground floor of their home, showing him everything that he’s done: the hoovered carpets, the polished picture frames, the nicely neat and folded throw blanket and the sparkling kitchen sink and floor.

“I’ve stripped the bed, remind me when we get back from the doctor’s otherwise it’ll get to bedtime and we’ll be knackered and we’ll get up there and the bed won’t be made and that’s just depressing and shit.”

Louis snorts. “Okay, baby. Don’t you worry.”

  
  
  


“Harry Tomlinson to room four, please?”

Harry leaps out of his cold plastic seat upon hearing his name being called. Louis laughs at him and follows a few steps behind. Room twelve is nearest to the waiting area, so they have to scale almost the entire length of the corridor before they get to room four. Inside waiting for them is a friendly enough looking locum doctor, probably only a few years older than Alex, with blonde hair, glasses and a warm smile.

“Good afternoon, Harry, is it?” She smiles, looking somewhere between the two of them.

“Yes, that’s me, hi. I’m Harry, this is my husband Louis.”

“Pleased to meet you both; how can I help today?”

“Well,” Harry begins, nervous excitement suddenly getting the better of him. “I um, I’m pregnant?”

The doctor’s face lights up. “Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both!”

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles into his shoulder, his cheeks hot with embarrassment. 

“So what we’ll do today is do a quick urine pregnancy test to confirm, if that’s quite all right, and then I’ll take some of your vitals and necessaries and sort out some literature on pregnancy and delivery for you, and lastly book you in with the midwife for your antenatal care!”

Harry nods along, wide eyed as she speaks. He’d thought being a three times veteran of child bearing he’d know everything already but he can tell already that no, that is  _ not  _ the case.

Harry does the urine sample in the loo and then averts his eyes as the doctor tests it again, convinced that it’s going to come back negative and all of this will be over before it’s even begun. 

“Oh, look at that! That’s a nice strong positive line if I ever did see one!” She exclaims, and Harry peers back at the dip test cautiously until he sees that yes, there is a single pink line and a second dark blue line below it, indicating he is indeed pregnant. 

“Is it really real?” He blubbers.

“Look at that, love!” Louis says softly at Harry’s side. “It’s real!”

“It’s a very strong positive; it came up almost instantaneously. Congratulations once again, gentleman!”

The doctor has lots of information for Harry, and unfortunately with each point she has to deliver him a ‘worst case scenario but unlikely to actually happen’ warning. His age of forty-four means he’s at higher than normal risk for miscarriage, pre-eclampsia, pre-term labour and chromosomal abnormalities of the baby. She also tells him that it will mean he will need close monitoring, regular scans, blood pressure checks and two checks for gestational diabetes before 28 weeks. 

“However, your weight is stable and you’ve got no past medical history of note, so as long as you keep it up, I can see no reason why your pregnancy shouldn’t run smoothly. It's just our duty to make sure you’re aware of all of the potential risks. I know it’s a lot to take in, though, especially for first time parents.”

She pauses naturally, and Harry begins to panic as he realises. Louis shifts awkwardly in his seat next to Harry too, and Harry hears him chuckle softly to himself.

“Oh, uh, this is actually baby number four.” Harry explains sheepishly, feeling a bit ridiculous for not bringing it up sooner. He guesses it doesn’t show on his recent medical records, given that Emily is twenty years old and was born in Manchester.

“Oh!” The doctor yelps. “Oh, I am sorry. I scrolled back quite far on your records but I didn't see any mention of any past pregnancies.”

“It’s okay it’s not your fault. But yes, we have two sons and a daughter; our youngest is twenty.”

“Twenty months?” The doctor asks, obviously not getting it yet.

“No, no,” Harry shakes his head, feeling flustered. Louis’ hand on his thigh helps somewhat. “Twenty years. Our children are twenty six, twenty two and twenty. We uh… we weren’t exactly… planning a fourth, I must admit.”

“Oh my God!” The doctor exclaims, grinning broadly. “I am  _ so _ sorry for waffling on in that case! I’m sure most of what I just said to you is second nature!”

“Oh uh, no don’t worry, I’ve forgotten almost exactly everything since my last pregnancy; believe me, your information was very helpful.”

The doctor seems pleased with that. As promised, she provides Harry and Louis with information leaflets and a flyer for some parent and child group at the church hall and tells them that she will leave a referral to the community midwife with the receptionists to action in the morning, and that they should expect a call from them any time after that.

“Congratulations once again,” She smiles as they're gathering their stuff to leave. “Best of luck for your pregnancy, Harry, enjoy life as a family of six!”

  
  
  


They meet their midwife and she dates Harry’s pregnancy at around eight weeks. Together they decide not to tell anyone until well after the scan. Harry relishes those early days when it’s just his and Louis’ little secret, when nobody else around them knows that they’ve got another little life growing inside Harry’s tummy.

Weeks nine and ten are ruled mainly by sleep and nausea. There is a spell where finding the energy to get up and go to work every morning feels impossible, but by eleven weeks Harry starts to feel better and as the twelve week mark approaches, Harry is sure he can see the beginnings of a little bump. 

In mid-June it’s time for the first scan. They’re both in tears as they see their little wriggling bean on the screen for the first time, though Harry does ponder why the technology doesn’t really seemed to have advanced much in twenty years. 

Once the scan is out of the way and they’ve had reassurance from several medical professionals that despite Harry’s  _ ‘comorbidities’ _ – what a  _ horrible _ word – the pregnancy is progressing well and baby is perfectly healthy inside, he and Louis start planning how to tell their existing three children. 

“Could we get three copies of the scan picture please? I’m happy to pay extra; I’d just like one each to give to our kids.” Harry had asked as the sonographer was snapping shots of the foetus for them, and she happily obliges. 

After the hospital they go into town and buy a nice packet of envelopes from Paperchase, and then sausage rolls from Greggs as per Louis’ request. 

  
  
  


The perfect moment to tell Alex, Jamie and Emily comes that very weekend. It’s Father’s Day on Sunday and the opportunity is too good to let pass by; all three kids will be round for dinner. They’ll chat and have a drink before lunch, Harry and Louis will open their gifts - God bless two dad families, it’s like having two birthdays - then once they’ve eaten and all the hubbub has died down they will give each of them their envelope with the scan picture and a little message inside.

“I can’t wait to see their faces!” Louis laughs gleefully on Saturday evening.

“They’re gonna be mortified at first, aren’t they?” Harry says. “Lexie and Jay, especially.” Harry doesn’t miss the way Louis’ expression changes momentarily when Harry uses Jamie’s old nickname. He makes a note to give his husband extra kisses later.

“They’ll get used to it,” Louis says resolutely. “Ems will be excited, I reckon.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while finishing the envelopes. The scan photos fit perfectly inside the champagne coloured envelopes Harry had chosen in town. Harry has written inside the cards and it’s Louis’ job to seal the envelopes and mark the names on the front. 

“I thought by this age we’d be grandparents, y’know?” Harry ponders as they work.

“We still might be; Alex and Claire are thinking about starting to try in the next year or so.”

“Really?” Harry asks incredulously. “How’d you know that?”

“Claire told me,” Louis replies, grinning gleefully as Harry’s mouth drops open indignantly.

“Oh, she  _ told _ you did she?” Harry questions. “She told you and not me? Why not?”

Louis giggles. “Because I’m the nice one, you’re the scary one!”

“Scary one?” Harry exclaims, throwing down his pen. “How am I the scary one? I’m a fucking  _ delight _ !”

“Of course you are my love, I couldn’t agree more! But as far as future father-in-laws are concerned, I’m the fun, friendly stupid one and you’re the ferociously overprotective, nurturing one.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Harry protests, and Louis is losing his resolve; all he wants to do is burst out laughing and maybe snog his husband senseless too.

“It’s not a bad thing!” Louis insists, trying to keep his composure but ultimately failing. “In fact, I think it’s rather a turn on.”

“You do?” Harry asks with a bemused smirk.

“Yeah,” Louis nods enthusiastically. “There’s nothing sexier than man with a baby, don’t you know? Ask anyone, they’ll tell you. I can’t wait to make you a dad again.”

“Is that right?” Harry smirks.

“Yep,” Louis nods, popping the P.

It’s difficult to concentrate much after that, which is useful because Louis has just finished addressing Emily’s envelope. Once Harry is satisfied that all is well and everything is ready for tomorrow’s big reveal they retire to the sofa, curling up together rather than separately like they might do otherwise. 

Louis shuffles into the corner of the sofa and Harry lies between his legs on his side, his little swelling resting against Louis’ calf. “Will be too fat to do this soon.”

“You’ll be heavily pregnant,  _ not _ fat.”

Harry has to smile to himself. Louis will rib the shit out of someone if he feels like it, with no remorse, but when he’s serious he’s deadly serious.

  
  
  


The next afternoon at one PM the house goes from just the two of them in it to all five of them and suddenly there is noise everywhere and it’s inescapable. It’s a little odd seeing Alex without Claire, a fact Jamie is keen to tease his big brother about. Emily has had a haircut, which pleases Harry because with a cut her curls look much shinier and rounder than usual, and she reminds him of himself. Jamie just seems excited at the prospect of roast potatoes.

Louis gets beers for the boys and Emily’s favourite fruity cider, while Harry continues to sip the lemonade he’s been working on all morning. This morning had been a bit of a nauseous one, and lemonade always seems to help. 

He wonders if anyone will notice.

“So, whatcha been up to lad? Apart from bringing me and dad all your washing, of course?”

Jamie doesn't rise to Louis’ bait and rattles off some story about the gym and some girl, which ends with a sub-story about something that happened at work earlier in the week. Harry listens to snippets of conversation here and there as he’s in and out of the kitchen, and as always it gives his heart such pure happiness to have all three - all  _ four  _ \- of his babies together.

Lunch is a pleasant affair, though Harry’s tummy is too nervous to really enjoy it. After they’ve eaten, Emily on behalf of her brothers fetches two glittery royal blue bags from the hallway.

There's plenty of chocolate in both bags, which Harry happily earmarks for later in bed. Louis has aftershave while Harry has a vinyl copy of one of his favourite old CD’s.

Once they’ve thanked the kids and Emily has enthused sufficiently about the gift-exchange, Harry glances over to Louis who meets his eye and grins discreetly. Louis raises his eyebrows, Harry nods and a jolt of excitement and anticipation goes through him. 

It’s time.

“Dad and I have actually got something for you all too,” Louis begins tentatively. Harry gets up and joins Louis’ in the spare fifth dining chair.

“Ooh, presents!” Emily rubs her hands together, eyeing her Pop closely as he produces the three envelopes from the top drawer of the sideboard behind them. “Money?” She amends with a quizzical look.

“No, not money. It’s not a present. Not yet, anyway.” Louis smirks and Harry has to grin too.

“What’s that look all about?” Jamie asks, but Harry and Louis both just shake their heads.

“Here you go, there’s one each. Just… before you open them, know that we love all three of you very much and-”

“Oh shit, are you splitting up?” Alex asks, his Louis-blue eyes going dark. “On fucking Father’s Day?!”

“Oh my God!” Emily exclaims, turning to her brothers in panic.

“No!” Harry interjects. “No, we’re not getting divorced! It’s big, but it’s not that big.”

“Is it Grandma?” Emily asks, her chin suddenly tucking in and her eyes going wide. “Dad, Pop; you’re scaring me!”

“No, sweetheart. Grandma’s fine, everyone is fine! Open the envelopes, guys! Enough suspense!”

Harry’s nerves are beginning to unravel now and with each passing moment things seem to go from bad to worse. Louis obviously senses his unease because he reaches over and takes Harry’s hand, slotting their fingers together. 

Emma is the first to get her envelope open. “Oh my God!” She utters.

“What?” Alex asks, rather than open his envelope.

“Open it,” Emily instructs, as Jamie opens his. Jamie frowns as he looks at it then looks up with wonderment in his eyes.

“Is this a wind up?” Jamie asks.

“Dad? Pop? Is this real? Is this for real?”

Louis nods, his grin overtaking his entire face. “Lexie, you there yet, mate?”

Alex is holding the empty envelope in one hand and the scan picture in the other, gazing at it like it’s the answers to every single one of life’s questions. 

“It might be a bit of a weird thought to wrap your minds around, and it definitely wasn't planned, but dad and I are having another baby!”

“Oh my God, I’m picturing things I don’t wanna picture!” Alex exclaims, though he’s grinning with it. 

“I  _ never  _ saw this coming!” Jamie declares, comparing his card with Alex’s, though they're the same.

“I thought I’d be an auntie before I was a big sister!” Emily yells, then yells even louder when it dawns on her again, “Oh my Christ, I’m gonna be a big sister! I can’t believe it!”

“Are you guys okay with this?” Harry asks.

“Not that there’s much you can do about it if you’re not okay with it.” Louis pipes up, and Harry concedes with a small nod.

“I think it’s great news! I can’t bloody wait!” Emily shrieks, hugging the image of her future sibling to her chest and squealing. 

“Yeah,” Alex and Jamie both agree, both getting up at the same time. Alex goes to Harry and Jamie pulls his Pop to his feet and into a big hug. Louis, unfortunately, is considerably shorter than his six foot three son, so it’s quite comical. Harry squeezes Alex in his arms, thanking him profusely.

“No worries, dad. Proud of you and Pop, y’know that?”

Harry feels close to tears, damn it. “Thanks, kiddo. We’re proud of you too. Proud of all of you.”

  
  
  


After the exhilaration of the afternoon and all the excitement, by seven thirty Harry is ready for bed. He excuses himself and Louis just gives him a weak thumbs up. He looks pretty spent too.

Christ, they’re getting old. 

Harry changes into joggers that sit just under his burgeoning bump and props himself up on his pillows, the telly turned down low showing some old episodes of Clarkson-era Top Gear on Dave. He’s just nodding off when Louis appears in the doorway, bringing him back from the brink.

“Hey love,” He says softly.

Louis kicks off his slippers and climbs into the bed with Harry, cuddling up to him. 

“Hazza, do you reckon there’s any chance of getting out of work an hour or so early tomorrow?” He asks, his eyes wide and unblinking. “I want to go and see mum tomorrow, let her know our big news.”

“Of course, babe,” Harry nods earnestly. He’s basically his own boss; if he wants an hour off he’ll take it. “Are you sure you don’t want some privacy though?”

“No, don’t be stupid,” Louis says softly. “We’re a team. Besides, without you there’d be no baby to tell of. So… you kinda need to be there, love.”

Harry grins. “Of course. Silly me.”

Louis leans forward and pecks the end of Harry’s nose. “You’re a nutter, I swear.”

“Only because I’ve spent a lifetime with you.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Mum would’ve loved having all these grandkids, wouldn’t she?”

Harry finds his eyes shimmering as he nods in agreement. There is no doubt about it. They hadn’t exactly gone about things very well; the first time Harry met his future mother-in-law, Louis’ mum Jay, was also the day they told her that he was pregnant. Nonetheless, she’d been absolutely over the moon, and when Louis and Harry brought baby Alexander Mark home she’d been absolutely bowled over by her first grandchild. Jay adored her grandson and it was wholly unfair that she never got to meet her namesake Jamie or Emily.

“She lives on in all of them,” Harry promises. “She’d be so proud of you, Lou.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Louis shrugs off Harry’s compliment. “You’ve given birth to them, raised them and kept ‘em out of trouble. I was just… along for the ride, y’know?”

“Lou,” Harry frowns. “You know that I’d never have got past that first night home with newborn Lexie without you.”

“You would,” Louis counters. “You’re the most determined, resilient person I’ve ever met, Haz.”

“You sound like you’re describing yourself.”

Louis snorts. “God we’re a couple of saps, aren’t we?”

In lieu of answering, Harry slinks his arm around the curve of Louis’ waist and pulls him closer. He presses his small bump into Louis’ tummy and nudges his cheek with his nose to get him to lift his head. When Louis does, Harry presses a soft kiss to his lips and lets it linger. Their lips are still dry, their bodies exhausted and their minds swimming. Harry pulls away and swipes his tongue over his lips as Louis does the same. They come back together, making out slowly and carefully under the covers. Harry’s hormones are rampant at the best of times but his dick is well and truly giving the game away this time.

He feels Louis’ breath hitch as he rolls his hips gently against him. Louis is as hard as Harry is, and his hands keep moving from Harry’s arms to his shoulders, belly, neck and back down to his bum. Harry can tell he’s getting distracted now; fidgety.

“Let me touch you,” Harry rasps, almost before he’s even pulled away. Louis nods heavily, rolling his eyes back in his head and then shuts them as Harry reaches into his boxers to wrap his hand around his dick. 

Harry’s wrist isn't in the best of positions, and it’ll probably ache tomorrow, but right now he’s just focussed on getting Louis off. It doesn’t take long before Louis’ own hand finds its way into Harry’s joggers, and then it’s not long after that until they’re both spilling into the other’s fist, breathing heavily in an attempt to cool down.

“God I love you.”

“Love you too, Lou.”

Sleep doesn't take long at all after that, for either of them. 

  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter, I hope you do too!

Harry and Louis head off to their respective workplaces in sombre moods the next morning, their later engagement weighing heavily on both their minds. There is a hesitancy to pull away in Louis’ kiss goodbye. Harry thinks to himself how amazing it is that he  _ still  _ isn't done loving Louis more than he’d ever thought possible previously. 

Harry’s told his managers about the pregnancy because he has to for health and safety reasons, but he’s not formally announcing anything to his colleagues for the time being, though now that the cat is out of the bag within the family, he’s not concerned about gossip or someone seeing something they shouldn’t.

The closer to four PM it gets, the harder it is for Harry to concentrate. He thanks his lucky stars that it’s just the usual crowds in today for afternoon tea, and that his meeting with the next set of newlyweds-to-be isn't until Wednesday. 

He feels strangely close to tears as he sees Louis’ car arriving at the entrance to Casterley, and he jogs down the gravel path to meet him. He was expecting a surge of emotions, but nothing like this. Harry notices a bouquet of something on the back seat of the car as he gets in.

“Hey baby, hey Harry,” Louis smiles.

“How was work?”

“Meh,” Louis shrugs. “Same old shit.”

Harry smiles and Louis pulls away; it’s only a short drive from Casterley to the cemetery, thank God. When they arrive, Louis finds a spot in one of the parking laybys and they head in together.

Jay’s headstone is the fifth stone along in the fourth row of the collection of graves directly behind the chapel building. It’s engraved in their memories like the lettering on the stones all around them. Harry takes Louis’ hand as a show of support and encouragement as he begins to slow down the closer they get. 

“It’s all right, babe,” He whispers, and Louis grunts but nothing more. 

Jay’s stone is one of the best kept in the entire cemetery; shining granite with rope moulding, lined with dark grey shingle and decorated with a small crystal angel and wooden blocks spelling out MUM. There are some blue and yellow flowers that are just beginning to wilt; they must be from Lottie or one of the other girls left on Jay’s anniversary last month. Jay didn't just leave Louis, Harry and Alex behind but four daughters too. It had felt impossible to carry on in the days and weeks following.

Jay passed away in May 2000, when Harry was four months pregnant with the baby that ended up being Jamie. James ‘Jay’ Leonard Tomlinson never got to meet his namesake, Alexander Mark was too young when she died to remember her and Emily Jo-Anne missed out by a long shot, but Harry and Louis have never let her memory be forgotten. Even now, all these years later, Jay has never left their hearts.

“Hi mum,” Louis begins shakily. He crouches down beside her stone and rests his hand on the top edge. “Looking lovely, as always.”

Harry pictures Jay’s blinding smile, what she might say to that.  _ What are you after, _ or something like that, probably. 

“Harry’s here too,” Louis says, peering back awkwardly over his shoulder. “Say hi, Hazza, jeez! Don’t be rude now.”

Harry laughs. “Hi Jay, it’s been a while. How are you?”

“I miss you, mum. Miss you more than ever. I’ve got loads to tell you. Loads I wish you could be here to see.” He pauses. “Guess what, mum? We’ve got some pretty big news - again. We’re having another baby, mum. Completely out of the blue and totally shocked, but we’re really happy. I thought at forty six I was past this, but apparently not! Another little grandbaby for you, can you believe it?”

“We can’t!” Harry joins in softly, leaning over to rest a hand on Louis’ shoulder. Louis places his hand over Harry’s automatically. “I’m still here, Jay. Forgive me if I don’t crouch down, though. I’m not sure I’d get back up again! You’ll know what it’s like, having had five yourself. God I wish you were here to talk me through it, Jay.”

“I hope I’ve made you proud, mum. I hope you’re up there, seeing all this, seeing us doing our very best every damn day. Not a day goes by where I don't think of you, mum. The kids; they’ve all got you right here in their hearts, and this baby will be no different.”

“We’ll make sure they know who their grandma was,” Harry agrees. “They’ll know how much you would’ve loved them. How much you loved Lou and me.”

Harry has to straighten up; the ache in his back is making it hard to breathe. 

“When they’re born, we’ll bring them here to introduce you properly, okay?”

Louis pauses like he’s anticipating an answer, and for adjusting a fraction of a beat it feels like Jay’s voice will sound. But of course, it doesn't. 

“We’re all doing good, mum. I’m always doing my best to look out for the girls, though they’re all plenty old enough to be looking after themselves now. Mark’s all right, too. The girls are well taken care of, they’re all happy and doing good. But, I’m sure you already know that.”

“She does,” Harry whispers at Louis’ side. “Baby, I’m gonna go and sit in the car, me back is killing. Take your time, there’s no rush, okay?”

Louis watches as Harry retreats, and is still gazing over as Harry turns to get in the passenger seat. Harry gives him a small smile, though he’s unsure Louis can see him from this far without his glasses. 

Whilst he waits for Louis, Harry takes out his phone and calls his own mum. Harry’s mum is closer to seventy five than seventy and always doing something; volunteering at the charity shop, doing raffles, baking cakes, going on day trips etc. Her hearing isn’t what it once was, and she’s currently on the waiting list to have her cataracts done, but other than that she’s in perfect health. Harry just wishes she’d downsize from the same four bedroom house in Cheshire that he and his sister Gemma had grown up in and move a bit closer to him and Louis. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, mum! It’s me!”

“Oh Harry, hello my love! How are you?”

“I’m good, mum!” Harry calls back loudly and clearly. He asks her what she’s been up to and she fills him in on the local gossip, and then a natural lull falls upon the conversation, so he takes a deep breath and prepares to spill the beans once again.

“So, I have some exciting news for you, mum.”

“Okay...” Anne sounds curious. “What is it, love?”

“So it’s come a bit out of the blue, and it’s definitely not something we were planning on but we’re both really, really happy now that it’s happened. Louis and I are having another baby, mum.”

Anne is in pure disbelief for a good while afterwards, and by the time Louis comes back to the car, they’re still chatting.

“Lou’s here now mum, do you want to say hi?”

“Oh yes, put him on!”

“Hiya Anne!” Louis sings cheerfully into the phone. “How are you, my darling? Keeping well?”

“Yes, yes! But enough about boring old me! Harry’s just told me the wonderful news! I can’t believe it, I honestly can’t! Congratulations, sweetheart! I can’t believe at my age I’m still getting grandchildren!”

“Ah yeah, we’re so excited! Harry’s already getting a little bump. We’ll come up and visit in a few weeks, all right? It’s been far too long!”

Once they finally get Anne off the phone, probably to immediately start knitting a baby blanket, they head home. Harry feels so much lighter now everyone knows. It had been a tough job getting hold of all of Louis’ sisters at the weekend, but eventually they’d managed it, and all four of them were overjoyed at the prospect of being aunties once again. 

Gemma was similarly chuffed, with Harry’s nephews Toby and Noah whooping and cheering in the background and declaring they hope it’s a boy so they can play footie and trucks and climb trees together. Harry shakes his head fondly as Gemma tries in vain to explain that they could do all of those things with a cousin of  _ any  _ gender. 

  
  
  


By the time they can finalise a visit to Anne - her schedule is busier than Harry’s during the height of wedding season! - Harry is already into his seventeenth week of pregnancy and it’s getting obvious now. Lottie and Gemma have been round to see the bump in real life, and his other three sisters-in-law have all been keeping tabs on him via WhatsApp and FaceTime. 

Harry’s biggest symptom at the moment, given that it’s the middle of July, is swelling. Everything is swollen; his ankles, feet, hands, face  _ and _ arse. On the plus side though, they’ve started feeling baby moving. Harry had been woken at about four o’clock one morning with a peculiar but achingly familiar fluttering feeling in his tummy. He’d shaken Louis awake and grabbed his hands but Louis had been able to feel nothing. Fast forward a couple of weeks, along with an appointment at 16 weeks to confirm baby’s heart beat was strong and clear at one hundred and forty three beats a minute, and Louis was now able to feel the pitter-patter tapping of his child from inside Harry’s body. 

They’re about two hours from Anne, and Louis drives. Harry brings snacks for the car and a full bottle of water which he downs inside the first ten minutes, meaning Louis has to stop for Harry to go for a wee. To make things better, Harry buys Louis a chocolate bar at the motorway shop. 

Later, Harry launches a game of I Spy, which Louis is reluctant to indulge him in, but eventually Harry has him joining in. However, after ‘road’, ‘car’, ‘clouds’, ‘tree’ and ‘sign’, they sort of run out of options so Harry voluntarily abandons the game.

Somewhere around the midway point, the monotony of the motorway whizzing past must send Harry to sleep, because the next thing he knows Louis is shaking him gently awake and the car is no longer moving but parked up on the driveway of his childhood home. 

Harry is filled with joy to see his mum again. Anne looks fantastic for her age; the pigment in her hair has faded to a speckled salt-and-pepper look and the lines around her eyes and forehead are more pronounced than they were the last time they saw her but she still radiates light and feels like home for Harry.

“Hello my darlings!” She exclaims at the door, shuffling off the step and towards them with her arms out wide. She hugs Harry first and then squeezes Louis tight. “Oh, it’s so good to see you both! Come here, Harry, let me see that belly!”

Harry grins abashedly as he smoothes his t-shirt over his belly, turning left and then right to show it off.

“Oh!” Anne exclaims, clamping her hands to her mouth. “Oh, would you look at that! Oh that’s wonderful, that is. There’s a little girl in there, there is. You mark my words!”

“D’you reckon?” Louis asks, his interest piqued.

“Oh yes, he’s carrying exactly the same as I carried Gemma. I’d recognise that bump a mile off! It’s the Styles hips!” Anne pinches Harry’s love handles which makes him yelp.

“Can we leave the body shaming please?!” Harry exclaims as they go inside.

“I think those Styles hips are quite nice,” Louis whispers as they traipse through the hallway. “I’d like to mark them up tonight.”

Harry squeaks in his throat and Louis laughs; when Anne turns around Harry has to be quick on his feet. “Louis tripped on the rug!”

He smirks as Louis glares daggers at him.

“Oh love, you must be careful!” Anne fusses, to which Louis just nods and smiles. Once Anne’s back is turned, Louis turns back to Harry and thumps him.

“Careful,” he warns with a devilish smirk. “I do bite, y’know.”

  
  
  


Staying with his mum is like an alternate reality. Time loses all meaning and the only thing, apart from ogling Louis, Harry is interested in is the exquisite relaxation and comfort he gets from being home. Home of course will always be wherever Louis is, but for seventeen years of his life it was here in this very house. There’s more to these walls than just bricks and mortar. 

They spend a few hours just catching up with Anne and all the comings and goings of the village, whilst drinking endless cups of tea and eating malted milk biscuits. She has proudly told all of her friends that Harry and Louis are expecting once again, and she passes on several messages of congratulations from the gang. 

They hear all about Anne’s recent coach trip to Newcastle and her day out at Skegness, which reminds her to go and fetch a Skegness themed fridge magnet for them to take home, and she fills them in on the latest drama between her sister and her niece, and also that Marlene and Andrew are renewing their wedding vows. Harry can’t quite remember which one Marlene is, and Anne finds renewing your wedding vows a very modern concept and an over-the-top excuse for a party, so that’s very quickly that on that.

At about five PM, Gemma calls for her regularly scheduled FaceTime chat with her mum, and when she spots Harry and Louis in the background she shrieks and demands to get an up to date look at the bump. Once Harry has struck a pose, they’ve said hello to their nephews and Gemma has buggered off again, they phone in a Chinese; Mai Lin telling them it will be half an hour.

They get their shoes on and begin a slow meander up to China Star to fetch their meal, chattering the whole way. Harry soaks up the familiar sights; front doors they pass that he used to call at for friends that have long since moved on; the field they’d knock about on; his primary school that feels like a thousand years ago now.

China Star hasn’t changed much either. The walls are yellower now, but Harry thinks that might be due to the passage of time rather than Mai Lin’s décor choices. 

Hours later, with a belly full not just of baby but of rice and chicken too, with his mum on the brink of nodding off in her chair and Louis close by his side, Harry feels sated and happy. When his legs begin to twitch and slumped over on the sofa around Louis is no longer comfortable, Harry hauls himself to his feet and gently touches his hand to his mum’s shoulder.

“Mum, me and Lou are gonna head up now, it’s getting on for twelve.”

“Oh!” Anne’s eyes spring properly open when she realises what Harry is saying. “Oh God, I must’ve nodded off in my chair! Some company I am, eh?”

Harry smiles. “It’s all right, mum. Me and Lou weren’t far off it ourselves.”

Anne gets to her feet and kisses Harry’s cheek. “All right my loves, I’ll see you in the morning.” She pulls Louis in for a hug and then the two of them make their way upstairs while Anne locks up and goes via the kitchen to get a glass of water to take up. 

Another place that has changed only by the passage of time is Harry’s old bedroom, where they’re staying this evening. The furniture is different now; classic calming whites with a soft blue bedspread, a couple of nice pieces of wall art and floral curtains hanging at the window. Harry can still picture it as it was; gaudy grey, blue and green bedding, pine furniture, his tape player and later a portable box-TV and then his prized PlayStation. He had posters of football players on his walls that remained there for so long they were entirely bleached out by the sun by the time Harry realised that they were there to ogle rather than because of his dedication to his team. 

Harry feels wide awake once he’s in bed - typical - when downstairs on the sofa he was struggling to keep his eyes open. Louis has taken his contacts out now so Harry knows that between the dim light of the room and his impaired vision, Louis won’t be able to see much. So fittingly, Harry takes it upon himself to latch onto Louis’ shoulder and tuck himself into the shape of his body.

“Weird isn’t it?” Louis says into the pitch darkness. “Sleeping in this room again. It’s been… what? Three years?” 

It has, but their memories of this room reach back even further than that. Their formative years were spent atop this very mattress. Lots of things have changed in those twenty-something years, but the memories make it feel like it was just yesterday.

“Do you know what I’m thinking?” Louis whispers.

“What?” Harry asks, rasping a bit. He grins, unseen in the dark, as he wonders if Louis’ mind is anywhere near his own is.

“This is the bed we made Alex in isn’t it?”

Harry chokes out a laugh, trying to be as quiet as possible. “Uh, yeah. yeah it is. The exact same.”

“We could make another one right now, but uh...” Louis peers down at Harry’s distended tummy. “Seems like I already took care of that.”

“Y-yes, you did.”

“Remember that night, Haz?” Louis questions, and Harry nods sharply. He’s; slipping under Louis’ control. “Remember riding my cock? Remember sitting that nice little arse down on my cock and riding me ‘til I was coming hard in that tight little hole of yours?”

Harry is so overwhelmed he can’t form words. His heart is hammering in his chest so hard it's deafening, and the only clear thought in his mind is  _ don’t make a noise! _

“Ye-yeah-” Harry tries to rasp, but no sound comes out. 

“Yeah?” Louis provides the answer for him. “Of course you do. Remember the day I put a baby in you? You’re so fucking attractive to me right now, Harry. All full up ’cause I filled you up.”

It’s incredibly cheesy but it makes Harry feel all hot and bothered; it’s definitely doing it for him.

“Wanna touch you,” Louis informs him, rocking his hips forward to meet Harry’s. “Can feel how hard you are, love. I wanna touch you, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry rasps.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, voice sweet and high like syrup. “Think you can be nice and quiet for me? Stay nice and quiet for me when you come, so nobody but me knows about it? Yeah?”

Harry nods desperately, his eyes as wide as his dropped-open mouth. Louis’ hand around him feels like heaven, as if Harry’s gone months without it, rather than mere days. It doesn’t take him long to get there, and he’s not sure whether he’s embarrassed about that or not. Harry comes with Louis’ right hand wrapped tight around his cock and his left hand clamped firmly over his mouth, stifling his moans down to choked off puffs of air and squeals. He is too dazed to remember taking care of Louis, leaving Louis to pull himself off moments after Harry has fallen off the edge himself. A quick thought flashes through Harry’s mind;  _ he’s using my come as lube. _

Louis whines in his throat, letting out a long jagged sigh as he spills into his own fist. Luckily, his discarded t-shirt is there to mop up with. Harry starts to feel more and more human as he watches Louis make his ablutions and then settle back down next to him in bed. Louis rolls onto his side and pulls himself in close to Harry. His hand wraps around the bump but as soon as he touches Harry he backs away looking concerned. “Haz, your belly is rock solid.”

“Yeah, it uh… it happens when you’re pregnant and you uh, you… orgasm.” Harry explains feeling hot and embarrassed.

“Oh…” Louis says abruptly. “Is that… isn’t that a bit weird? Does that make us weird?”

Harry has to laugh. “It’s only weird if we make it weird, which… I’m not making it weird. Are you making it weird?”

“No, the only weird thing is you saying the word weird so many bloody times it doesn’t even make sense anymore!” Louis hisses.

Harry grins, holding onto his silence for as long as he can before muttering, “Weirdo.”

  
  
  


Harry wakes in the early hours of Sunday with a very fidgety baby but a very much asleep husband. He manages to pat around the bedside table and locate his phone, which promptly blinds him in the darkness. With the brightness eventually turned down, Harry learns it’s just gone three. He’s been asleep barely two hours.

He debates waking Louis up to chat, but after the drive up here and the drive back that Louis will be facing later on, Harry decides against it. Instead, he turns onto his side, stretching his bottom leg out and crooking the top one at the knee to get comfy, and proceeds to watch Louis. That could be considered creepy in other circumstances, but they’re married so it’s okay.

He studies Louis’ pout, his lips that have dried out overnight from his mouth breathing, the frown in his brow. 

“Stop watchin’ me sleep, Haz.” Louis murmurs suddenly, eyebrow quivering but his eyes remaining closed.

Harry jumps but grins as he watches as Louis’ features fall still again as he continues sleeping. Their entire family teases them about how freakishly in tune with each other they are, but Harry loves it.

He must fall back to sleep eventually, because the next thing Harry knows it’s nine thirty and the sound of his mum’s voice from the other side of the door is waking him up.

“Harry love, are you awake? Would you boys like a cuppa?” She asks softly through the wood.

Harry blinks himself into consciousness and calls back, “Yes please; we’ll be down in a minute.”

“No rush, love, take your time!”

He hears her shuffle away and the tell-tale creak of the second to last stair. When he looks over to Louis, his eyes are wide open and a small grin is teasing his lips. 

“Remember when you used to sneak me in?” Louis asks. “That time I hid in your wardrobe all night ‘til your mum was asleep!”

Harry laughs, his eyes wandering over to where his old pine wardrobe used to stand. That wardrobe had come with them to their first flat when Alex was a baby, serving them well right up until Jamie came along, before Harry’s grandparents gave them five hundred pounds for new furniture and old faithful went off to the charity shop in the sky.

“I wonder if she actually had no idea, or if we weren’t as good at hiding you as we thought we were?”

Louis snorts softly. “I’m not asking her, so I guess we’ll never know.”

It is nice to think about when they were in the early days of their relationship; it’s not too dissimilar to how it is now; Harry five months pregnant and hiding the fact he has a boy in his bed, even though nowadays the boy is his husband and they’re in their mid (to-late) forties with three other grown up babies out there in the world.

Ten minutes or so later they’re dressed and downstairs with Anne having their morning tea. Harry would prefer something stronger to get him going but he will stick with tea for the sake of his baby.

They’re planning to set off for home at about two, so they have the morning to relax and make the most of their time with Anne. They wander up into town after breakfast to the Sunday market and find a lovely little bundle of knitted goods that Anne insists on buying for the baby. Harry thanks her profusely and tries to pay some towards it, but she will not have any of it. Further down the way, they get warm doughnuts with salted caramel dipping sauce before heading back to the car.

“I’m knackered already!” Harry exclaims as he counts down from three quickly before using all of his effort to lift his leg over the threshold of the car door to get in. “I’m barely half way through yet and I’m knackered! There’s a reason they don’t advise getting pregnant after the age of forty!”

“And you’re only just figuring that out?” Anne quips.

“Yeah, bit late for worrying now, Haz!” Louis agrees.

Harry just ignores them and sets about shuffling around to get himself and baby comfortable. 

  
  
  


It’s harder to say goodbye than Harry had thought it would be. Even though he knows that he’ll see his mum before he gives birth - it’s Alex’s birthday next month and they’ll definitely do something, weather dependent - it sort of feels like the next time he sees her their entire lives will have changed again that’s giving him more pause than he expected.

“I’ll see you in a month or so, lovey,” Anne promises as they embrace. “I’m just at the end of the phone if you need anything, okay? No matter how stupid or meaningless it feels, if you need me I’m there, okay?”

“Thanks mum,” Harry takes an extra moment to hold her. “I’ll be all right, I guess I’m just… hormonal.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Anne smiles. “Take care of my grandbaby, you hear?”

Harry promises he will, and he gets into the car while Louis says his goodbyes. Even just being on his feet for five minutes has tired him out. He watches as Louis squeezes Anne in an embrace, rocking her side to side gently. He’s been on the receiving end of many a Louis hug, and it’s safe to say there is little else on earth as good. 

“All right?” Harry asks as Louis gets into the car. Louis just nods; Harry can see a slight pinkish glaze to his eyes. Louis starts the car and slowly begins to back down the driveway. They wave to Anne and then they’re gone.

Louis drives them out of the village in silence, and Harry peers over several times in the space of a few minutes to see the terse expression affecting his profile.

“I love your mum, H, but it makes me miss mine so fucking much.” Louis confesses tightly without taking his eyes off the road.

Harry's heart sinks. “I know, baby.” He considers it for a moment and then reaches over to place his hand over Louis’ gear-shifting hand. “I miss her too, all the bloody time. I know it’s not the same.”

“No it’s...” Louis glances over for the first time. “It’s… I dunno. I can’t put it into words, even all these years. Thanks, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks into August, Harry has another scan. This time, unlike the previous times Harry has been here but particularly his first two pregnancies, they are presented with the option to find out the gender of their baby. 

He’s grown impossibly close to ‘little bumpy’ over the last twenty and a half weeks and not once had he considered whether it might be a son or a daughter in there. Plenty of thoughts flash through his mind in quick succession when posed with the question. Two daughters and two sons would be nice; two of each. Another boy would also be amazing; Emily has been their princess for twenty years now and Harry’s sure she’d like to keep hold of that title. However, no matter what their baby is at birth, they could be anyone as they grow.

Harry looks over at Louis, who looks as clueless as Harry feels. “What do you say, Lou? Surprise?”

“Surprise.” Louis grins. 

That decision, apparently, was the wrong one. Emily, Gemma, Anne, Lottie and the twins are all horrified when Harry reveals that they didn't find out the gender. Louis’ middle sister is the only one who is unbothered. Harry has always liked Fiz. 

Nevertheless, they all get over it and Harry’s pregnancy continues faultlessly. Baby is active mostly at night, which means Harry is getting less and less sleep, and so his work days are getting shorter and shorter. When you’re the boss, it’s okay, but Harry can’t one hundred percent shut off from his work so takes his more admin based stuff home with him once his ‘shift’ finishes at 2pm. 

He sets up quite a nice little office space in the dining room, taking over one end of their lovely solid oak dining table with his laptop, books and binders full of contact information. He still has weddings, conferences and afternoon teas to oversee when he is at Casterley, but the more menial stuff like typing up invoices and emailing quotes to companies and clients is more than doable from the comfort of his dining room chair. 

Mid-way through the month, they all gather at Anne’s for a barbecue in celebration of Alex’s twenty sixth birthday. 

  
  
  


September is quite a busy month, baby wise. The start of the month sees Harry’s pregnancy clock over into its twenty fifth week. At the start of the second trimester the doctor had told him due to his ‘multiple comorbidities’ - i.e.: he’s old as fuck with high blood pressure and a bad back - he and baby will need closer surveillance. That means appointments every week with his GP for blood pressure readings, fortnightly checks of the baby in hospital and from twenty eight weeks he’ll have scans every other week too. 

“Am I doing the wrong thing by having this baby?” Harry asks solemnly one evening, the night before he’s due to go into hospital for his first scheduled check-up. “They’re not even born yet and I already feel like they’ve got a timer over their heads.”

“No, love, don’t say that. They’re just being overcautious for the sake of the baby. You’re the fittest, healthiest person I know.”

Harry snorts morosely. “That’s because everyone else you know is a chain smoking, overweight alcoholic.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Now we both know that’s not true. C’mon, stop moping and get that arse into bed so I can cuddle you before we fall asleep at a reasonable hour because we’ve an early start tomorrow and we’re old farts now.”

Harry’s laugh is so loud the baby probably hears it.

  
  
  


Louis is by Harry’s side the next morning when they arrive for the first of Harry’s three hour long fortnightly monitoring sessions.  _ Monitoring Monday’s, _ Louis had dubbed them.

They’re on a small ward with six beds, privacy curtains around all of them. Louis sits uneasily in the arm chair next to the bed that Harry is laying on with his t-shirt ruched up to reveal his bare bump, adorned with monitors and belts. A machine is slowly printing out a continuous trace of the baby’s heartbeat, and Harry can feel the occasional wriggle or tumble. Other than that, he just sits there awkwardly not knowing what to do with his hands. 

After an hour, a midwife comes round to take his blood pressure, then they’re left alone again pretty much for another hour, apart from the odd midwife sticking their head around the curtain to peer at the trace for a second or two. 

“See, I told you it’d be fine!” Louis says with a forced smile when they step out of the lift and towards the hospital exit just before midday. “Shall we go and get brunch before going back to work? I’m free ‘til one.”

Harry’s taken the whole day off, as going into Casterley after his hospital appointment for just a few hours seemed pointless, but Louis is going in at one, meaning they have about an hour or so to grab a bite. There's a nice place in the high street just down the road from Louis’ school so they head there.

“Hey, welcome to Moose, are we ready to order?”

Louis goes big and goes savoury with the cafe’s signature full English, but Harry and his sweet tooth can’t resist the Nutella banana pancake stack. 

“Great choices, and for drinks?”

“A decaf coffee, white, and a tea, two sugars please?” Louis orders for them, and thank God that because of the baby he’s switched to decaf, because Harry’s not eaten since a single slice of jam on toast at seven that morning and he’s starting to feel a little giddy. Plus, the glorious smells wafting through from the kitchen don’t help.

“You all right, love?” Louis asks as he nurses his milky tea.

“Yeah, just feeling a bit wobbly. Lack of food, y’know?”

“It’s a good job you’ve gone for just about the sugariest thing on the menu then, isn’t it?” Louis smirks.

Their breakfasts arrive in about ten minutes. The pancakes really are something to behold; three light and fluffy American-style pancakes with melty, oozy Nutella, crushed biscuit crumbs and sweet sliced bananas. Harry wolfs this down, as well as the mushrooms and a slice of fried bread from Louis’ plate.

“Feeling better now?” Louis asks, leaning back in his seat once he’s finished.

Harry nods, stifling a burp behind his hand. He stretches back in his seat too and slips a hand around the underside of his bump, easing a spot of discomfort. “Baby likes chocolate.”

“Like father, like child.”

  
  
  


The rest of Harry’s week is quiet, and he takes Friday off as on Monday after his appointment with the GP he is meeting two brides-to-be and he knows that after that, work will be very busy.

There’s no need for Louis to accompany Harry for a simple set of blood pressure readings, so Harry goes alone. He sits in the car park beforehand working himself up and up so when he gets in there he isn’t surprised to find his first reading is high at 135/85.

“I uh, I think I got myself a bit worked up outside waiting to come in.” He explains sheepishly.

The GP just smiles; she’s a kindly locum that Harry’s never met before. She’d been full of questions when he’d sat down, and absolutely amazed when he’d told her this was baby number four, and even more amazed when he’d told her the age gap between this baby and Emily.

Thankfully, after a distracting chat and a glass of water, his subsequent blood pressure checks read normal and Harry is on his way by half past nine. He arrives at Casterley just before ten, bumping into a familiar face in the bar area.

“Hiya Harry!” Katie beams. “I haven’t seen you for ages! Your bump is getting  _ so _ big!”

“Oh!” Harry clutches it self-consciously. “Hello Katie, love. Yeah, I’m twenty six weeks now. Just been for an appointment this morning actually!” He decides he won’t elaborate. Kate will only feel sorry for him and the old man that he is. “How are you? I haven’t seen you for a while?”

Kate rolls her eyes and sighs. “Yeah, I’ve been working weekends for a while ‘cause me and Reuben’s dad have been having problems. Reu’s started nursery this week so I’m back.”

“Oh bless him. But I’m sorry to hear you’re having a tough time,” Harry frowns. “Have you got plenty of support otherwise?”

“Yeah, I’ve got my mum and my sister. My sister reckons I should move back in with her and mum but I’ve got my little flat and a bit of independence, I don’t want to give it up.”

“I understand,” Harry muses. He’s been there, he knows. “Well I’m here until thirty five weeks, all being well, so if you ever need to rant or vent, or if I can help at all, come and find me, yeah?”

“I will do,” Katie grins. “Thanks, Harry! Take it easy!”

_ Chance would be a fine thing _ , Harry thinks as he waddles towards his office. His new clients, Lara and Dianne are due any minute now and Harry is now cursing himself for not allowing himself a bit more time to at least grab a cuppa.

  
  
  


Harry is relieved to see two o’clock come. He’s got several quotes to obtain for Lara and Dianne, as well as all the forms and leaflets to put together and email off. That will keep him busy until half past four, at which point he’ll go and get Louis from work.

_ We should probably get another car, _ Harry thinks to himself as he locates their grey Ford in the car park. The idea of carting the baby around on buses once Louis goes back to work is most unappealing. The drive home is straight forward as the roads are quiet. Once he’s home, Harry makes a cup of decaf and settles on the sofa with his laptop.

The next thing he knows, it’s quarter past five and his phone is ringing. Harry blinks in surprise at his phone, not quite realising what’s going on yet.

“Hi love, just wondering if you’re nearby yet? It’s gone quarter past.”

“Oh shit!” Harry exclaims as he realises. He struggles to his feet and makes a mad dash for his keys and shoes. “I’m so sorry love; I must’ve fallen asleep when I got in from work! I’ll be there as quick as I can, okay?” 

“Harry it’s okay, love. It’s fine; I can go and sit in the staff room for ten minutes. Don’t rush, okay? Just so long as I know you’re both okay.”

  
  
  


“I think it might be worth getting a second car, for when baby comes?” Louis suggests, and Harry smiles to himself. “Then when I go back to work, I can take the car and you won’t need to keep running around after me, with the baby in tow.”

“Can we afford it?” Harry asks. “We haven’t even started looking at nursery furniture yet,” They’d planned to start shopping for the big baby stuff next month. “Then there’s the money we’ve spent on baby clothes. Not to mention the endless nappies and wet wipes. Can we afford a car too?”

“Love,” Louis places a hand on Harry’s thigh. “That’s the good thing about having a baby in your forties; you’ve had a lifetime to save up money! We’ll be okay. Plus, it doesn’t have to be some top of the range model, just something that will get us from A to B.”

“True,” Harry agrees. “Shall we look this weekend?”

“Yeah, we can make a day of it. The spare room-”

“The  _ baby’s _ room,” Harry corrects him. 

“Yes, that’s what I meant. The _baby’s_ _room_ needs painting, why don’t we make a day of it? Car shopping and paint shopping on the Saturday, I’ll take you out for dinner in the evening and then painting all day Sunday? What d’ya say?”

Harry’s heart feels all warm and treacly as he thinks ahead to their proposed weekend together. He doesn’t even let himself worry about how much of a dent said weekend could potentially make in their savings. “Yeah, sound good babe.”

  
  
  


After a pretty mundane week where not much happens; a couple of FaceTime’s with Anne, calls with the kids and a takeaway mid-week, Saturday morning dawns bright and crisp. It’s quickly nearing October and outside the front door the world is turning a beautiful bronzy-red and a blanket of cool air is settling in. Harry could stay in bed with the duvet right up under his chin all day if he could, but wrapping up warm and going out and spending the day with Louis sounds pretty good too.

The first garage is a bust; in the second one Louis finds a Peugeot he really likes but the price in the windscreen says otherwise. They pause for drive-thru Costa and then drive over to a smaller, privately owned garage on the other side of town by the industrial estate. 

Within a few minutes of being there they find something that fits the bill; in their price range, nice looking, plenty of space for baby paraphernalia.

“Good afternoon, can I help you at all?” The salesman dashes over once he spots them approaching. Harry glances at Louis, willing him to do all the talking for them.

“Hiya, yeah we’re in the market for a second car for when baby comes along, we’re quite interested in this one.” He points him thumb back towards the car. “Is it available?”

“Fantastic! And first and foremost, congratulations! Now yes, this car is available for lease or purchase. Would you be interested in a test drive?”

Harry feels like a great bumbling oaf as he squeezes his bump in behind the wheel and makes small talk with the sales assistant through the window. “The lever to recline the chair is under the seat.” He points out helpfully, and Harry’s cheeks burn. He wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

It’s ridiculous, because he knows how to drive, and he knows how to drive pregnant. It’s never impacted his abilities before, but knowing that this is isn’t his car yet, and that he’s being watched, makes a simple little drive to the end of the street and back the worst minute and a half of Harry’s life.

“What did you think, love?” Louis asks, tearing himself away from his apparently riveting conversation with the salesman. Harry leaps (as best he can) out of the car almost before the car has even properly stopped.

“Yeah, ‘s fine, let’s go for this one.”

Louis raises his eyebrows with a bemused expression. “You sure? You don’t wanna look elsewhere?”

“No, I said I like this one. Let’s get this one.”

Louis glares Harry down for a moment, but Harry lowers his gaze and Louis has no choice but to accept.

“Okay, well you heard the man! We’d like to go for this one please, mate.”

  
  
  


Harry can only relax once they’re back in their own car an hour later and headed to B&Q for paint.

“What was all that about, H?”

Harry’s back is immediately up again and he sighs loudly. “Nothing, I just… I fucking hate salesmen at the best of times and with this bloody huge thing in the way,” He grabs his belly. “I just feel bloody stupid and I just wanted to get out of there!”

Louis snorts, obviously not reading the room (car). “Oh c’mon love, don’t be stupid!”

“I’m not being stupid! You asked me why I got upset and I’m telling you! I’m sorry but that’s just the way I am, okay! Sorry it it’s ‘stupid’ to you!”

“Harry, come off it. Lighten up!”

“No  _ you _ fucking lighten up, Louis! Don’t ask such stupid bloody questions! I’m pregnant and fat and hormonal and I don’t want to answer your stupid bloody questions, okay? Just go into the shop and get the paint yourself, I don’t give a fuck!”

Louis doesn’t say anything more. They drive to B&Q in silence, but luckily it’s not that far. Louis swings into the car park, into a space as near to the doors as he can get and jumps out of the car as soon as the engine dies. He comes around to Harry’s side and opens the door; he still hasn’t said a word. Harry sheepishly undoes his seatbelt and hauls himself up and out of the car. Louis slams the door closed behind him and carefully yet forcefully presses Harry up against the car door.

“I’m a twat,” Louis says, leaning in close. “I’ve never done this,” He cradles the bump, “But you’ve done it four times. I’m gonna say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing at some point or another. I’m amazed, to be honest, that it’s taken me this long to be a twat.”

“Lou-”

“No, I’m apologising. Or, I’m working my way up to it, at least. I’m sorry for being a knob and not thinking of you. I’m sorry and I love you. Now will you come in and buy paint with me? Please?”

Harry bites the inside of his cheeks to try and stop his grin from spreading, but it quickly proves pointless. “Fine!” He mumbles.

Inside the shop, they’re faced with a lot of choice. Too much choice really. 

“Sod Fifty Shades of Grey; there are fifty shades of sodding cream here!” Louis exclaims in disgust at the rows upon rows of magnolias, ivories and oatmeal’s. “I can’t choose, Haz, they all look the same.”

“What about duck egg blue, or a light yellow? This soft green?” Harry suggests picking up a pot called ‘Water Mint’. 

Louis peers at it critically. “Bit bland, isn’t it?”

“Yellow then?” Harry repeats, pointing to a nice sunshine yellow.

“We can’t paint the whole room in  _ that _ ; it’ll give the baby sunburn!”

Harry snorts. “I was taking the piss. Mostly.”

Louis sighs and goes back to perusing the shelves. He crouches down to the tubs that are too low for Harry to get to. “Y’know? The most I think about it the more ‘Water Mint’ is growing on me.”

“Yeah? Me too, actually. We could make the ‘Water Mint’ the feature wall and chose a pale grey or off-white for the other walls. It would look lovely with walnut furniture! And those jungle canvases I showed you before, they’d go perfectly!” 

Louis is smirking, again. “Thought about this a lot, have you?”

“Of course I have! My whole life is centred ‘round my babies!”

They come away with a tin of Water Mint and two tins of Ivory Lace. It’s a huge step towards getting ready for the arrival of their baby, and it’s a weight off Harry’s shoulders that he didn’t realise was so heavy. 

  
  
  


Harry is relieved to get home and put his feet up for an hour or two before starting to think about getting ready to go out for dinner. He’d be just as happy with a takeaway or a meal for two from M&S but in the next few months their opportunities to go out and enjoy a meal in a restaurant are going to be severely limited, so he’s going to enjoy it. 

He’s showered and lathered his skin in cocoa butter and is now tasked with finding something to wear. Day to day Harry just wears t-shirts and jumpers as his work shirts don’t go anywhere near him anymore and the next size up had made him feel fat and frumpy. 

“All right?” Louis’ voice in the doorway surprises Harry. He looks over at his husband, who is still in joggers and a t-shirt so clearly not ready either.

“Hi babe,” Harry smiles. “I’m just choosing what to wear.”

Louis makes his way across the room and drapes himself across Harry’s back, threading his arms around his body. “Just go like this.”

Harry peers down at his body, naked apart from tight boxers that he can’t even see underneath his belly.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Lou.”

“Why not?” Louis asks, smudging his cheek up against Harry’s shoulder. “I think you look very nice like this.”

Louis’ hands brush over Harry’s hips and around the bump, and then up his sides and over his pecs. His nipples are sensitive usually, but with his hodgepodge of emotions currently, he’s exquisitely tender. He feels Louis flex his hips forwards an inch or two and Harry feels him hard against his bum.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr Tomlinson,” Harry reaches up to place his hands over the top of Louis’, to relieve some of the tension his body is feeling. “But I need actual help choosing an outfit.”

“I’ve said already, just stay like this. But if you’re asking for my professional opinion, I’d say go with the navy blue, I love that colour on you.”

Harry reaches for the shirt in question; it’s meant to be worn loose but he’s not worn it since being pregnant. The effect will be completely lost.

“What about the belly though?”

“What about the belly?” Louis counters. He removes himself from Harry’s body and takes the material. He drapes it over Harry’s shoulders and helps him into it. The material stretches around the bump and then pools loosely over it, and Louis buttons it to Harry’s neck and then goes back and undoes two buttons.

“There,” He says softly. “Beautiful. All you need now is jeans.”

“Louis, my jeans are elasticated.”

“So?” Louis rolls his eyes. “Who gives a fuck? You’re pregnant, and doing a bloody good job of it too, might I add. Just wear the damn jeans, Harry, before I cancel our plans and convert to fucking you in our bed all night long.”

Harry laughs nervously; nervously because he’d probably agree to that without too much hesitation thanks to the thunderstorm of hormones going on inside him right now. But Louis’ reserved their table and despite everything he is looking forward to a nice meal out.

“Tempting as that sounds, I’ll put the jeans on.”

  
  
  


They’re seated in a relatively quiet corner of the restaurant, and Louis’ hand is resting gently in the (aching) small of Harry’s back as they make their way over. 

“Can I get you some drinks to start?”

“What’s your recommendation for virgin cocktails?” Louis asks their server, and Harry can feel himself blushing.

“Our pineapple daiquiri is one of our best sellers and it’s also popular on our mocktails menu.”

“Perfect, we’ll have two of those please.”

Harry balks. “Lou, you don’t have to do that just ‘cause of me!”

“I’m not doing it because of you; I fancy a clear head in the morning for painting!” Louis explains, smiling sweetly at their server who nods and scuttles off professionally. 

“Lou, if you want a beer or a wine or anything please just have it, okay? Don’t worry about me. Shall I call the server back?”

“Honestly babe, don’t worry! If I wanted a beer, I’d have ordered it. I’m a big boy now.”

There are many jokes Harry could make here, but he decides not to. Instead, he sends Louis a smile that he hopes portrays his gratitude then grabs the food menu and buries his head in it before he can say anything embarrassing. 

Louis orders the duck simply because it’s described on the menu as ‘Yorkshire-reared’, while Harry goes for comfort in the form of posh chicken pie. Their server reassures them that they’ve both made perfect choices, of course, and then they’re left alone again with their yellow drinks. 

“I can’t believe you actually ordered that!” Harry shakes his head. “Do you even like duck?”

“Of course I do, duck in hoisin sauce pancakes is my favourite dish from the Chinese!”

Harry snorts. “Oh yeah, ‘cause  _ that’s _ the same!”

As it turns out, Louis’ Yorkshire duck is very nice. Harry knows because he ended up picking bits off Louis’ plate when his guard was down. 

“Oi, this is a posh place! Hands to yourself!” Louis hisses, swatting at Harry’s poised fork.

“I’m growing your fourth and final child, mate, lemme eat your duck!”

Both of them immediately burst into snorts of laughter at the almost innuendo, and then that sets the tone for the rest of the evening really. 

“Stop teasing me!” Harry whispers, cheeks burning.

“Sorry but you’re the one talking about eating my dick!”

“I didn’t even say that! Plus, if I’m eating anything, it’s your arse. Your dick gives me babies, I need to treat it carefully.”

“Oh, so you’re not careful when you eat my arse?” Louis smirks. Their voices are lowered, and their table is far enough away from anyone else that nobody will overhear, but it’s still giving Harry a rush. 

“No,” He says thoughtfully. “No, careful isn’t a word that springs to mind.”

“Desperate?” Louis suggests. “I’d go with desperate. Gagging for it, maybe?”

“That’s three words.”

“I’ve got three words for you.”

“Is one of them  _ fuck _ ?”

“A gentleman never tells, Harry,” Louis lifts his glass, a small smirk giving him away as he takes a sip.

  
  
  


Harry would be hard pressed to tell you what the meal was like, because he spends most of it teetering on the edge of feeling like he’s going to come in his trousers. The drive home was like torture; every red light was against them, but finally Louis pulls onto their driveway and Harry’s getting out of the car before he’s even cut the engine. He’s never been this ready for anything in his life, it feels like.

“Oh fuck, I’m so horny,” He whines into Louis’ neck from where he’s clinging onto him. They’re barely through the front door.

“Lemme put my keys away first!” Louis laughs, tossing the bunch wherever they land. “C’mon baby, upstairs to bed.”

Harry follows Louis up the stairs, pawing at the waistband of his jeans eagerly. Their bedroom seems miles away, and Harry curses their past selves for choosing the bedroom furthest away from the stairs.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks at the top, cradling Harry’s bump. He does feel a bit tender and tired out from climbing the stairs, but he’s not giving up that easily. He nods keenly. “Okay, tell me if you need anything.” Louis guides Harry towards the bed and lays him down carefully, propped up on pillows. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

Louis steps out of his jeans and clambers onto the bed, settling on Harry’s thighs. “Do you know what you do to me, baby?” Louis asks. Harry thinks it might be a rhetorical question, because he immediately speaks again. “Look at you, looking like this, H. Still can’t believe you’re with me.”

“I love you.”

Louis smiles. “I love you too, baby. Now fucking kiss me.”

Harry is of course happy to oblige, desperately chasing Louis’ lips as he breaks apart their kiss and begins to work his way down Harry’s neck. He bites down on Harry’s collar bone and then begins to unbutton Harry’s shirt. Harry’s automatic reaction is to feel conscious of his rapidly changing body, the way his usually scrawny, once chiselled physique is now rounded and soft, but the swell of his stomach and chest is a constant reminder of their relationship and the journey that they’ve found themselves on together once again. 

Plus, it makes Harry feel sexy as hell.

“Fuck, Lou, I want you inside me.” 

“Yeah?” Louis’ eyes are dark as he stares back Harry, who nods desperately. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of your body, baby. Wanna fuck you so bad; get you pregnant all over again.”

“Ah, Lou, fuck me, please!”

“Patience, my love,” Louis goes back down, careful not to rest all of his weight on Harry’s belly, and unexpectedly takes one of Harry’s nipples into his mouth. Harry cries out at that, at the firmness of Louis’ grip around his doughy pec, the softness of his tongue around the sensitive bud.

Harry is writhing underneath Louis within seconds; fuck it feels good. Louis quickly swaps to the other side and the cool air against Harry’s spit-slick nipple tingles and sends a jolt of sensation up his spine.

“Suck on my tits, baby,” Harry breathes out, clutching at Louis like a lifeline. “God, it feels so good!”

Harry is pretty much comatose as Louis rids him of his clothes and strips out of his own t-shirt. His dick is hard, his nipples are tingling, his hole is clenching involuntarily and every moment that passes is a moment too long to wait.

Louis’ shoves two fingers in Harry’s mouth and he sucks needily until Louis drags them away and reaches down to breach his hole. Harry’s lost for words now, which is lucky because Louis has plenty.

“Your hole is nice and wet for me,” Louis marvels. “Look at this gaping fucking hole, H. If you could see yourself right now, I swear. You’re fucking dripping for it aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Harry splutters frantically. “Fuck it- fuck me please!” t’s been 

The entire evening has been building up to this moment; since Louis was draped over his back earlier, softly skimming his hands over the curves of his body. Harry cries out as Louis dips two fingers back into him. Harry is breathless and desperate as the words tumble from his mouth.

“Fuck me, Lou!”

Louis’ fingers are replaced with his thick, hard cock and Harry’s arms give out on him as Louis bottoms out. He lies there, slumped against pillows with his bum in the air and bump resting against his thighs choking and crying and moaning as Louis fucks him.

“Feel good, baby?” Louis asks, his voice shaking as his hips knock into Harry. “So wet, so fucking hot, baby.”

Louis’ thrusts are unrelenting, it seems, and Harry’s quickly losing all the strength in his already exhausted body. Louis notices quickly though; that’s what is so magical about them. He immediately slows his pace to shallow, gentle dips in and out of Harry’s wrecked hole.

“C’mere,” Louis soothes in his ear, laying Harry down on his side and positioning himself around his body to shallowly fuck into Harry from behind. He reaches over Harry’s hip and wraps a languid hand around Harry’s own dick. “There you go, that’s it. Let go, baby.”

It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time later that Harry feels himself coming into Louis’ fist. Louis keeps Harry in his grip until he stops shaking then runs his fingers through the come smeared on the head of Harry’s cock and then sinks said fingers back into Harry’s hole.

“Fuck Lou,” Harry closes his eyes and rocks his hips slowly back and forth with the timing of Louis’ gentle intrusions. “Fuck, I’m so wrecked, baby. That was amazing.”

They wake the next morning with mutual blow jobs and then Harry stumbles out of bed just before midday to make bacon and egg. Once they’ve eaten, they take their cups of tea up to the spare room and stand in the middle of the dust-sheet covered space, staring at the walls in trepidation.

“C’mon!” Louis is the first to speak. “These walls aren’t gonna paint themselves.”

  
  
  


The same midwife from last time is on shift when Harry and Louis arrive at hospital Monday morning, and she remembers them instantly. Much like last time, he is welcomed onto the assessment ward and given a bed that he lumbers up onto as gracefully as his 28 weeks pregnant body will let him. 

Once he’s strapped up and the monitor is going, they’re left alone again. It’s painfully quiet on the ward today, there’s only one other patient in and somehow they’re asleep, so conversation is difficult. They talk about their dinner plans, what their working days will have in store for them, about the joke that Jamie had sent in the family group chat last evening. Harry points out the smudge of Water Mint paint on Louis’ neck that he’d missed, and then settles on watching the squiggles coming out of the machine and thinks that they seem OK but he really has no clue. Sometimes, the machine bleeps loudly and Harry’s heart thumps in panic against his chest wall, but no one comes running.

“Do you think they’re okay in there?” Harry asks, pulling in Louis’ attention and looking down at his exposed belly.

“Yeah,” Louis says softly with a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I reckon they’re just peachy in there, babe. Look.”

Louis carefully lifts the print out coming slowly from the machine and shows Harry. “This is good. This is a nice strong heartbeat.”

Louis’ mum was a midwife throughout her whole working life; Harry sometimes forgets that fact. God, he wishes Jay was here now.

“I hope to God I can keep them cooking until they’re ready to be born.”

“Harry, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you’re the healthiest person I know, our baby will be okay.”

Harry accepts Louis’ promise, though he knows that not even Louis, the person he trusts most in the world, could possibly know for that for sure.

  
  
  


Later that evening, after chicken stir fry for tea, Harry’s just settling down on the sofa when their house phone rings. With a grunt and a sigh he shuffles to the edge of the sofa and heaves himself up, lumbering across the room to where the phone sits.

“Hello?”

“Hiya dad, it’s me.” 

Alex. 

“Hey kid, what a nice surprise! How are you?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. How’s Pop?”

“He’s fine; he’s just in the shower at the moment. Did you want to speak to him?”

“No, it’s all right. How are you? How’s the baby cooking?”

Harry smiles to himself. “Yeah, everything’s okay at the moment.”

“At the moment?”

Harry proceeds to explain, briefly, what the story is with his blood pressure and all the extra checks that he and the baby will be having from now on. Alex is quiet as Harry explains, and for the rest of the phone call Alex is distant and distracted.

“It’ll be all right, though. It’s just ‘cause I’m like, proper old now.” Harry tries to lighten the mood. It seemingly works, as Alex laughs and agrees. 

They chat for a little while longer; Harry asks Alex how Claire is and what he’s been up to at work, if they’re going to be popping in for a visit anytime soon. By the time they’re finished chatting, Louis is back. He points at the phone with a questioning look. Harry mouths ‘Alex’ and Louis nods.

“Pop’s here now; do you want a quick word? Okay lad, speak to you soon. Bye, love.”

Harry sits with pursed lips and his hands folded at the top of his bump, half-listening to Louis’ end of the conversation. Either Alex is opening up more to his Pop than his dad, or Louis is talking his ear off, but their conversation seems to go on and on. 

“Did he seem a bit down to you?” Harry asks when Louis’ finally off the phone.

“Probably just tired from work,” Louis shrugs. “Fancy some Ben & Jerry’s?”

  
  
  


The arrival of October brings Jamie’s twenty second birthday. He pops by after work, en route to the pub, just long enough to receive his gifts and ask Harry how he’s doing. The arrival of October also brings monthly growth scans of the baby, replacing Harry’s fortnightly check-ups in hospital. Their first scan is at thirty weeks, on the first Wednesday of the month. In the ten weeks since they last saw their baby they’ve grown a lot. The outline of their head is crystal clear and they’re waving to the outside world as the sonographer passes the scanner over Harry’s distended abdomen. 

“They obviously get them from me!” Louis jokes when the sonographer points out how long-legged their child is.

Something occurs to Harry while they’re in that region. “Oh, uh, I don’t know, you probably wouldn’t, but we’ve not found out the baby’s gender, so if you can see anything please don’t tell us, is that all right?”

The sonographer smiles; she’s clearly used to that sort of request. “Of course, darling, I won’t say a word.”

Their baby is measuring perfectly, more or less slap bang in the middle of the growth charts, and the consultant that reviews Harry’s scans is more than happy with the pictures. They get drive through Costa to celebrate afterwards. 

Their next scan a fortnight later is fine too, and Harry truly believes that all of the precautions and fuss from the doctors has been in vain. Another fortnight on, Harry has reached thirty four weeks and really into the home stretch now; he’s feeling as big as a house and peeing every forty-five minutes thanks to the mini-footballer inside him kicking and punching. That’s why when the sonographer peers closely at the monitor with a frown and a twisted expression on her lips, Harry’s heart rate starts to pick up.

“Have you been experiencing any reduced foetal movements in the past few days, Mr Tomlinson?”

Harry shakes his head vehemently. “No, not that I’ve-” Harry wracks his brain. He’s sure that he’s been feeling the baby, he’s sure it’s all he’s talked about for the past few months, but when he’s lying there trying to pinpoint the last time he felt a jab in the rib or a punch behind his bellybutton, he can’t think. “Oh God, I don’t know, I can’t think straight! Lou?”

“It’s all right, babe, I’m here.” Louis grabs Harry’s flailing hand, but one look at him tells Harry all he needs to know. “What’s going on, doc?” Louis asks the sonographer. “Is our baby okay?”

“Baby’s fine, their heart rate is fine but I am a little concerned about the growth since your last scan; they seem to be tailing off rather than working their way up the percentile charts. If you look here, last time baby was plotting between the 50 th and 75 th centiles, this week they are below the 50 th centile.”

“What does that mean?” Harry demands; unable to decipher any of the medical jargon.

“Baby isn’t putting on as much weight as we would usually like, and they’re slightly on the smaller side. That could indicate placental insufficiency. I’d like you to come back in on Friday for another scan, okay? I’ll get that booked in for you. I would also recommend you starting prophylactic Aspirin 150mg, which is known to aid placental function. I’ll bleep the obstetric registrar to come down and write you up a script for that.” 

Harry just accepts what he’s being told because he doesn’t know what it all means; all he can take away from what the sonographer has just told him is  _ placental insufficiency. _

“Is this my fault?” He asks, tears welling up in his eyes. “It’s because I’m too old, isn’t it? I’m selfish; I’m putting the baby’s life at risk!”

“No, my sweetheart, that’s not it, is it?”

“Placental insufficiency can occur at any time in any pregnancy,” The sonographer is obviously trying to be reassuring. “You are thirty four weeks, and baby’s heartbeat is nice and strong, these are all reassuring factors.”

“But it’s only just November, Lou, baby isn’t due until mid-December!”

“It’ll be okay, darling, I promise you. I won’t let anything happen to you both.” Louis promises over and over, and for the second time in as many months, Harry finds himself wondering how Louis could possibly make a promise like that.   
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Harry completely shuts down until their repeat scan. He doesn’t go to work, he doesn’t get out of bed, he doesn’t come to the phone when Louis’ done speaking to the kids. Every evening when Louis slides into bed next to him, he struggles to raise a smile. He doesn’t want to move too vigorously, lay funny in case he’s inadvertently hurting their baby more. Every wriggle and every kick should be reassuring, but it just makes Harry hyperaware of the fragility of his baby’s life, and fills him with dread when there is more time than expected between motions.

  
  
  


“I’m scared, Lou.”

They’re sitting in the waiting area, just one other person sitting on the other side of the room. A TV on the wall opposite them is playing the same informational tape on a loop, and Harry has memorised every word and promptly forgotten them all.

Louis, sat next to him, reaches out and laces their fingers together. Harry’s hands are clammy but cold. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

“I’m too scared to go in, Lou. I’m terrified they’ll look and see… see that the baby is…” He can’t complete his sentence.

“Harry, don’t babe.” Louis says softly, placing his other hand over Harry’s palm. “Don’t torture yourself.”

Harry’s stomach plummets through his body when his name is called a few minutes later. Louis holds his hand into the clinic room, and keeps his hand resting on Harry’s thigh as he sits on the bed listening to (but not taking in a word of) what the sonographer is saying. 

“Now if you’d like to settle back on the couch, we’ll get to it.”

Harry nods, sitting back robotically and lifting his t-shirt up. As always, he’s warned the gel will be cold. He doesn’t even feel it anymore. Harry can’t look at the screen, he keeps his head turned towards Louis, studying his expression and feeling his chest getting tighter and tighter by the second. The sonographer passes the scanner over his abdomen, back and forth across the same few inches of skin, and Harry stops breathing as the sonographer takes a deep breath.

“Baby looks to be doing well,” She announces, and Harry almost chokes on his own relief. He sobs as he finally looks round at the screen. The baby is there in all its glory; the sonographer points out the flickering in the baby’s chest that is their heart, beating away strongly. 

“Baby is still not quite back up to the 50 th centile, so the risks around the placenta are not entirely removed, but baby seems to be doing okay in there. I would advise we keep an eye on you with CTG monitoring.”

“Is that what I had before?”

“Yes,” The sonographer nods. “If I can ask you to wipe yourself down and then if the two of you don’t mind taking a seat back in the waiting area, I will get the nurse to bleep the on call consultant to come down and have a quick chat with you.”

“A quick chat?” Harry questions a few moments later in the waiting area. “Do you think I’m gonna have to stay in hospital?”

“Nah, I’m sure they can do it at the GP can’t they?” Louis asks, but Harry doesn’t know. He just shrugs. “We’ll soon find out, here comes doc.”

The consultant introduces himself and invites Louis and Harry into one of the small clinic rooms down the corridor. Harry is immediately suspicious again.

“So, I’ve got the ultrasounds here, and a copy of your last set of blood work, Mr Tomlinson. I can see that your full blood count is a little low. Platelets, ferritin and clotting is all normal. No history of diabetes in the immediate family, no?” Harry shakes his head. “Good, now on to the baby. The scans aren’t showing much in the way of growth over the past four weeks, which is a little perturbing. But these traces are good, which is reassuring. We’re in a situation I think now where we’d be looking to get this baby delivered sooner rather than later.”

“But I’m not due ‘til the seventeenth of December!”

“I understand,” The consultant nods. “However, sometimes it’s safer to deliver early than it is to try and get to full term. Of course, nothing is set in stone yet; we won’t act rashly here. I would like to see you back tomorrow for some monitoring, I’m sure the ultrasound tech has already been through this with you. Today is Monday; I really would like to take some more bloods and a blood pressure reading today, and see you back for daily traces of the baby’s heart this week, with a repeat ultrasound on Friday.”

“Can I not have the monitoring done at the GP’s?” Harry asks.

“I’m afraid not,” The consultant smiles sympathetically. “Besides, if we need to admit you, you’ll already be here!”

Harry’s heart nearly stops, again. “Is that something that could happen?”

The doctor sighs, but not angrily. “It’s my duty as a doctor to be as transparent with my patients as I can be. So, yes, it is something that could happen.”

Harry nods, swallowing thickly. “Okay, that’s… that’s fine.”

It’s another two hours before they’re back in the car. Harry’s been scanned, punctured, tested and prodded and now, he’s just ready for bed. “It’s only half two.”

“Huh?” Louis looks over, and Harry realises he’d been thinking out loud. 

“I was just thinking I’m ready for bed, but it’s only half two.”

Louis smiles. “I would’ve thought you’d had enough sleep to last you.”

Harry smiles too, apologetically.

“C’mon, I’m taking you home.”

  
  
  


If there’s one thing about hospitals that Harry learns that week, it’s that time seems to stop running linearly. He has his blood pressure read what feels like twice every half an hour, endless monitoring of the baby and on Wednesday there is a someone that arrives in labour with triplets, although that might’ve been yesterday, Harry can’t remember now. 

Because now is Friday - three thirty in the morning to be precise, and Harry’s sat up in bed with the bedside lamp glowing dimly in the room, shaking Louis awake. 

“Lou? Lou, wake up. Lou, something doesn’t feel right!” He tries, gingerly at first, to shake Louis awake by his shoulder, but when it becomes obvious that his comatose husband isn’t waking up Harry grips tighter and digs his nails into Louis’ bicep. 

“Oi, what?” Louis murmurs in his sleep, trying to roll away from Harry. He swats blindly in the direction of the iron grip around his arm. “Whasgoinon?”

“Lou, it’s me. Lou, please wake up. I think something’s wrong!”

Louis is groggy for a few moments but when he realises what Harry is saying his eyes open properly and immediately he’s one hundred per cent with it. “What did you say? Something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t feel right, my belly feels all weird, Lou.”

Louis scrambles to sit up, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table and jabs himself in the eye with an arm in the process. “Shit. What’s weird? What shall we do?”

“It feels tight and sore, all across here,” Harry cradles the underside of his bump to demonstrate. “What do I do? We’re going in later for a scan, shall I just wait? Am I being ridiculous?”

“No!” Louis insists, which surprises Harry. “No, ring them now. Better safe than sorry, eh?”

“Okay, what’s the number?”

“It’s saved in your phone, Haz.”

Harry’s trembling as it rings; thankfully it only rings twice before some very cheery sounding person answers. “Hello, Delivery Suite, how can I help?”

“Hi, my name’s Harry Tomlinson, I’m actually due to come in later on this morning for a growth scan, but I’ve been awake for an hour or so now and my bump feels very low and very tight, and I’ve only felt a couple of little taps whereas usually they’re really active all night long.”

“Okay, and how many weeks are you?”

“Thirty five,” Harry replies. “I’ve been having scans and tests for reduced movements for a few weeks now as they’re concerned about the baby’s growth, but this just feels different. I don’t feel right at all.”

“Of course, you’re completely right to trust your instincts. I would definitely recommend coming in to Delivery Suite for examination. Do you have a partner or someone that can drive you? We can call you an ambulance but this wouldn’t be categorised as an emergency and it could be up to a three hour wait.”

“No, my husband’s here with me,” Harry says, nodding despite being on the phone. “He will drive me.”

“Excellent, well I’ve got your information down in our log book, don’t forget to bring along your antenatal notes and your hospital bag. We’ll see you shortly, Mr Tomlinson.”

The hospital corridors are an eerie place to be in the dead of night but behind the doors of Delivery Suite it’s like the middle of the day. On call staff dash about in their scrubs while senior staff mill about discussing patients, the agonised shrieks of people in labour fill the air and because there are no windows just awful fluorescent lighting it could be 5am or 5pm.

They’re immediately offered their own room, not the bays of 4 that Harry has been used to, and that’s probably a sign that things are either moving very quickly, or headed in the wrong direction. Possibly both. Harry is ready for the worst, but when nothing much seems to happen he is confused. Shaking Louis awake desperately, racing across town to get here, repeatedly jabbing at the button for the lift, it had all felt very urgent and very frantic but now he’s hooked back up the monitor and he can actually see their baby shifting around inside him with the power of their movements, he feels a bit foolish.

“I’m embarrassed,” He whispers to Louis.

“Why?” Louis whispers back. “And why are we whispering?”

Harry smiles sadly and speaks in his normal tone. “Do you think I was just panicking over nothing?”

Louis shakes his head confidently. “No, I think with everything that your body is going through carrying our baby, and everything that you’ve been through mentally these past few weeks, you’re right to be cautious. I’d rather be here and find out everything’s fine than… y’know, the alternative.”

Harry shudders, feeling a boulder in his throat form that he has to swallow down. “God, yeah. Yeah, I couldn’t even face the thought of… that.”

“There’s a reason why only some men can carry. It’s because only the strongest, bravest, most courageous sorts can pull it off.”

Harry doesn’t feel strong or brave and he certainly doesn’t feel courageous. The closer it gets the more anxious Harry is.

“They would discharge you again if they didn’t think you needed to be here.”

Harry nods; he supposes that’s true. They settle into comfortable silence for about half an hour after that, only passing the odd word between them. Harry watches his belly jiggle occasionally, wondering all about the little person under the thin layer of skin and tissue. Judging by his presence at the hospital recently it might not be too much longer before they find out. He rests his head back for a few minutes then peers over at Louis who is looking down at his phone with a look of heavy concentration on his face.

“Interesting, is it?”

Louis glances up, looking confused. “Lexie.”

“Oh, is he okay?” Harry asks, and Louis nods but doesn’t elaborate. Harry has a feeling his husband and his eldest child might be keeping something from him, but Harry can’t place what it is. “Have you told the kids anything yet?”

“No, not yet. I don’t want to worry them. Well, worry Em.”

Harry agrees that it would be pointless letting the kids know about his most recent admission, given the way the previous ones have ended. It’s not like they haven’t been here before. 

The rest of the morning is quiet. At seven AM the night shift handover to the day shift. Wintery sunlight is now streaming in through the window, heating the room and making Harry feel rather nauseous. That could just be his nerves though. A breakfast of tea and toast is brought round not too long after seven, and Louis charms his way to a cuppa for himself too. One and a half slices in, a nurse appears at their door to take Harry’s temperature and blood pressure. 

“The day shift are just completing handover and then someone will be in to see you, okay?”

“Thank you,” Harry nods. “Do you think I’ll be going home?”

“I couldn’t say,” She smiles apologetically. “The doctor shouldn’t be too long now.”

She studies the trace and reassures him his temperature is fine, though she doesn’t comment on the blood pressure and Harry can’t decipher the numbers on the monitor either. He thanks her as she leaves, and then turns to Louis in frustration.

“God, I feel sick.”

“Why don’t you finish your toast?”

Harry shakes his head. “I can’t face it.”

“Do you want me to open the window?”

“Please.”

It takes longer for the doctor to come than the nurse had predicted, and by the time one arrives, Harry’s blood pressure has shot through the roof and they’re told that while the CTG trace is reassuring, they’re not prepared to discharge Harry yet.

At eight PM, visiting hours are up and Louis is chucked out with promise from the nurses that if anything happens they will call him. Harry cries, openly, as he clings to Louis, truly terrified for what the next fifteen hours or so might bring. 

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Louis soothes him. “I’m gonna keep my phone on loud all evening, okay? If you need me you call, okay? If you need the nurses, press your buzzer, okay? No matter how silly it feels, it you need them, or me, call. Okay? I love you.”

Harry hiccups and sobs. “I love you too, Lou. So much.”

“Love you so bloody much,” Louis squeezes Harry’s shoulders. “I’ll be back in the morning early doors, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry sniffles. “I love you, Lou.”

Louis grins, pressing a kiss to Harry’s clammy forehead. “I love you the most, baby.”

When Louis has gone and Harry is all alone with his iPad, he sets about finally ordering a bedside crib, a sterilising kit and bottles, a baby swing, muslins and most importantly and definitely most expensively, a travel system. 

Harry thought that buying all the bits for their baby would be an exciting activity they’d do together over several trips to the shops and hours spent pouring over catalogues. But instead he’s in hospital strapped up to monitors on 24-hour watch in case of the very real possibility of him going into premature labour.

He’s teary-eyed as he places an order for a changing bag and almost presses brushed navy rather than charcoal, which wouldn’t have been a big deal in the grand scheme of things but with his fragile mood it’s enough to set him off all over again. The signal is too patchy for phone calls so he and Louis send voice notes all evening until Harry eventually falls asleep around one-ish. 

He’s gently shaken awake less than an hour later for observations.

  
  
  


Louis returns on Saturday at around one PM, and much to Harry’s surprise, Alex and then Jamie and then Emily trail in behind him. Tears spring to Harry’s eyes immediately as the four of them stand there crammed together into every spare corner of his hospital room. 

“As soon as Pop told me I immediately got in the car and came over; Lexie was already at yours when we got there!” Jamie explains as Harry shuffles to the edge of the bed to get up and hug his kids.

“Pop called me and Jamie picked me up on his way through,” Emily tells Harry as they embrace.

“I can’t believe you’re all here! I’m gonna cry!”

“Think you already are, dad.” Alex quips with a wry little smile. 

Harry scrubs his hands over his face and takes a couple of deep breath to try and compose himself.

Jamie sits down in the arm chair, Emily perches daintily on his lap, Alex on one arm of the chair and Louis on the other. It’s quite comical to see really. 

“What happens now, dad?” Emily asks. “Will you be coming home soon?”

“It’s too early for the baby to be born isn’t it?” Alex queries.

“I don’t know. I hoped I was going home today but if it’s anything like yesterday then I’ll probably be here another night.”

“Love, you’re in the best place here, for both of you. If it means another night or two”

“He’s just enjoying having the house to himself!” Harry looks at his trio and rolls his eyes. Emily laughs and Alex shakes his head with a reluctant smirk, the absolute double of his Pop. Their similarities still amaze Harry. 

A nurse arrives not too long later, completely bemused and endeared by Harry’s myriad of visitors. Louis offers to disappear with the kids but she dismisses him and says it’s fine. 

“And how is the patient feeling today?” She asks. She’s a very friendly West Indian lady, about as wide as she is tall with a real motherly vibe to her and Harry is bloody smitten. 

“I’m okay, a little bit nauseous maybe?” Harry contemplates. “I think it’s just a bit of anxiety. Do you know if they’re gonna let me home today?”

The nurse, Sheila, continues tightening the blood pressure cuff around Harry’s arm as she talks. “My darling, these consultants, you know they’ve got a time schedule all of their own! I will get someone to come as soon as possible; we’ll need to keep an eye on if the nausea gets any worse, and we may need to give you some magic pills to get rid of the sickness.”

“Oh, it’s okay; it’s probably just because it’s warm in here.” Harry says, but he looks over to where Louis is in a thick hoodie, Emily with her coat and scarf still on and the boys with their sleeves pulled down over their hands and it dawns on Harry that if he’s feeling the heat, he’s definitely in the minority. Even Sheila has a cardi on over her uniform. 

“My dear, I promise as soon as you’re able to go home, we will let you. Okay, you rest up and enjoy some time with your family. Press the buzzer if you need us, okay?”

Harry nods weakly; his hopes of going home are fading with every interaction. “Thanks, Sheila.”

  
  
  


Alex stays for about an hour, and not long after Jamie and Emily depart too, leaving just Louis. Harry can’t say that he’s not relieved; he can’t shake the uneasy nausea that he was feeling earlier. 

“Are you all right, love?” Louis asks, picking up on it eventually.

“Yeah, I just… God, is it me or is it warm in here?”

“It’s you, love,” Louis frowns. “I’m gonna press your buzzer.”

“No, it’s fine-” Louis’ done it before Harry can interject. 

After that, a lot of things that Harry wasn’t at all expecting happen very quickly. When the buzzer is answered it’s a nurse followed by a doctor, and Harry is informed that a couple of the results in his blood work are abnormal. He doesn’t hear  _ what _ exactly, but he’s told that it’s not surprising he feels unwell because there is evidence of presumed infection. He asks if he’s going to be taken to have the baby now; they won’t answer that, but they do tell him he’s not going home today. 

Then, not long after that cramping pains begin in his belly and he realises why he’s not allowed home. 

  
  
  


At first there is no rhythm to the pains, and despite his nauseous, panicked state, Harry recognises them as the very early stages of labour. As there is no cervix to dilate, the baby will work its way down the birth canal until the limits of the male anatomy get in its way and it has to be manually dilated and removed that way. It is what it is; Harry lost his squeamishness around child birth precisely three babies ago.

The presence of medical professionals in the room increases tenfold once it’s established that Harry’s in early labour, and he can feel the nausea creeping rapidly up his body, going from mild queasiness to feeling like he’s going to blow. 

“Lou, I feel really sick,” He grabs Louis’ hand tightly and clamps his eyes tight shut, ergo missing Louis’ panic at his clammy, pale state. “Lou, help!”

Vomiting all over the bed and himself won’t be one of Harry’s fondest memories of today, but it will be one of his most prevalent. 

Harry is diagnosed with severe dehydration and a saline drip is started. He’s given more anti-sickness tablets and a jab in his leg to try and relieve some of his symptoms of pain, but with each passing hour it just gets worse, though his sicky feeling does wear off some, which is nice.

“I’m too old for this, Lou,” Harry pants between spasms. “There’s a reason they don’t let old blokes do this, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. There’s a reason they don’t let old blokes do this.” 

Then, Louis has the audacity to laugh at him. “You’re cute when you’re drugged up, love.”

Harry is affronted. “’m not cute, I’m in pain. You think it’s easy having a baby push its way out of your arsehole? You should try it sometimes, because I can assure you it’s no fun.”

“Now now Harry, I don’t think a fifth child is a very good idea now, do you? ‘Specially not when the fourth one isn’t even out yet.”

If Harry had been of a clearer mind, he’d have stopped there, realised the embarrassment he was causing a squirming Louis and shut his mouth, but apparently drugs make him say stupid things.

“You’re just bitching because you could never handle it. Having something come  _ out _ of your arse is a lot different to something going  _ up  _ your arse, I can assure you!”

“All right, Harry!” Louis laughs uneasily, sending a very apologetic look to the midwife that is trying to prop Harry’s pillows up. “Let’s save this poor lady the trauma of hearing about our sordid personal lives, eh?”

Harry isn’t really sure what Louis’ implying because at that moment he get a particularly strong pain through his core. “Oh God, this is getting worse! It’s getting worse, Lou!”

“It will do, lovey, you’re in labour,” The lovely nurse tries to soothe Harry. “Remember your breathing exercises, try to keep calm. Breathe it out, ride it out and you’ll be okay.”

Harry pants his way profusely through the contraction, trying his hardest to just get through it. He’s probably being a bit dramatic, considering he’s only a few hours in, but he’s having a baby pulled out of him today, he’s allowed to be dramatic.

“Do you want some water, Haz?” Louis asks him when the pains have fizzled away. “The ice chips have melted, unfortunately.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “No thanks.”

“Do you want me to see if I can get more ice chips?” 

Harry frowns, not making eye contact with Louis. “Yes, please.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s hand before he leaves, and Harry finds himself watching the door the entire time Louis is gone, on red alert for another contraction at any moment. Louis returns with ice chips just as another contraction is starting, and Harry clamps down tightly on the largest cube he can find as the pain builds up in a crescendo. It feels like it’s going to keep going and going, but eventually Harry can feel the pain receding again and he falls back against the bed in relief. 

“What time is it, Lou?” He asks, gasping to get his breath back.

Louis pulls out his phone. “It’s just gone eight o’clock, babe.”

“Really?” Harry exclaims. “Jesus, how long have I been at this?”

“Since about two, love.”

“Oh my God, I thought I was almost there!” Harry wails, another contraction cutting him off from moaning any more. “Oh fuck, Lou, this hurts!”

Louis reaches for Harry’s hand and allows Harry to squeeze as hard as he can and he doesn’t even moan. 

“Hello gents, how’s it going?” A new voice joins the hubbub. Harry doesn’t even look up; all of his usual polite tendencies are out of the window. He can hear her speaking to Louis, but he doesn’t hear anything that they say, until he’s being offered drugs.

Gas and air makes everything a million times easier, and makes Harry wonder what the hell he was doing thinking he could try this without drugs this time around. The past twenty years have obviously made him very disillusioned.

“Now, after the next contraction I’d like to perform an internal examination, is that okay Harry?”

Said contraction is just starting to build already, so Harry nods, accepting this without even questioning it. “Do it. It’s fine, do it please.”

Harry sucks on the gas and air like his life depends on it as the contraction builds and builds and builds and finally peaks; the dizziness that the gas and air brings about is a good distraction until the pain starts to subside. No sooner has he let the mouthpiece fall from his lips, a nurse and a doctor are springing into action to examine him. 

Harry is manhandled into position, legs akimbo and his bum in the air. He barely feels it as the speculum is inserted and slowly opened. Another nurse appears, seemingly from nowhere, and straps his arm up to a blood pressure cuff. His eyes flit from the nameless nurse’s face to the top of the other nurse’s head between his knees to Louis, who is standing off to the side with his arms wrapped around his body and a look of concern deep in his features. Louis looks up, maybe sensing Harry’s peril, and their eyes meet.

“I love you,” Louis mouths to Harry.

Harry can’t speak; there’s a lump in his throat stopping him. He nods and clamps his teary eyes closed, trying to focus on anything else than what’s going on right now.

“Harry love, are you okay?” The first nurse’s voice sounds. Harry opens his eyes, actively crying now. “It’s okay, love. C’mon, Louis, you can come back to his side now, sweetheart.”

Harry grabs Louis’ hand as soon as he’s close enough. “Lou, I’m scared.”

“It’s all right, baby,” Louis leans in and presses a kiss to Harry’s forehead. He must be disgusting, so Harry’s heart grows a little bit more room for Louis. “Let’s find out what the progress is, yeah? Just listen to the nurse, baby.”

“So, your blood pressure is quite high and with how close together these pains are, we would expect baby to be much more descended by now. We’re going to give it another hour with CTG coverage, and if we’re no closer after an hour, we’ll be looking at a Caesarean section.”

Harry can’t stop sobbing. “What does that mean, why is the baby not more descended? What does that mean?!” He cries through the explanation and doesn’t take a word of it in. 

He’s left to continue to labour with his gas and air, his Louis and his trusty friend the CTG monitor wrapped around his tummy. 

“Your belly has completely changed shape, Haz,” Louis observes during a rare calm moment. “Now that the baby’s so low down, your belly’s gone a bit pear shaped.”

Harry smiles weakly. “Apt, that. Pear shaped. This is all going wrong! I’m crap.”

Louis shakes his head in disbelief. “Harry, shut up! You’re smashing this.”

“I’m scared,” Harry whispers. “What if something is wrong? What if they’re too late and something happens to our baby?”

Harry sees the uneasy flicker in his husband’s blue eyes. He also sees the stiff upper lip and determined quirk of his brow. “It won’t, darling. You’re doing  _ so _ well and I’m so  _ proud _ of you.”

“I love you, Lou.”

“I love you too, Harry. So bloody much.”

“Oh God, here’s another one. I want an epidural, now!”

“Just get on that gas and air, love. That’s it.”

  
  
  


Harry has no idea how long they leave him; it doesn’t feel like an hour, more like five or six. He endures another internal examination and another round or five of contractions before they finally give in to his pleas for an epidural. 

“Okay Harry, I’m going to bleep the anaesthetist; keep on sucking down that gas and air and we’ll be in to administer your epidural as soon as possible.”

Harry wails into his gas and air as the medical staff leave the room, leaving just him and Louis. Louis who is looking at his phone.

“Louis!” Harry yells, letting the gas and air drop on the bed. “Can’t you put your phone down and help me?!”

“Sorry love, I was just updating the family chat,” Louis says sheepishly, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Toby and Noah are in bed now so Gems is after a play-by-play.”

“What time is it now?” Harry asks. Louis, to his credit, doesn’t roll his eyes or sigh when he gets his phone back out of his pocket.

“Half past ten,” Louis says. “I was sure our baby would be born today, but the closer to midnight we get, the less sure I am.”

Harry has to smile. “I think they’ll have baby out before midnight.”

“I reckon after.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry grins. “Wanna bet?”

“I’ll bet you the first dirty nappy change that the baby is born after midnight.”

Harry chews his lip, exaggeratedly pretending to think. “Okay, you’re on. The epidural’ll be here any minute now; prepare to lose, Tomlinson.”

  
  
  


Trying to sit still through having an epidural administered whilst in the throes of established labour is the least expected most difficult part of Harry’s delivery. He sits right on the edge of the bed with his hands tightly clasped in Louis’ trying to ignore the urge to twist into a more comfortable position as a doctor in a white coat sticks a massive needle into his back that could paralyse him if he dares move an inch.

“There we go, all done. Lay back now and relax for ten minutes, we’ll come back to check on you soon.”

Harry can feel panic, his go-to reaction, bubbling back up inside him but Louis is there like a shot to calm him. “Do you feel a bit more comfortable now?”

Harry pulls a face. “I don’t know; I feel all weird! Pinch my leg. Go on!”

Louis dutifully obliges, and Harry marvels at the sheer craziness of the fact he doesn’t feel it at all. “I can’t feel that. I can’t wiggle my toes; I’m trying but I can’t! It feels like when you bury your feet in the sand at the beach!”

“Good!” Louis laughs. “And would you look at that, it’s already ten past eleven; still feeling confident on that bet?” 

Harry laughs. “Now I’ve got this epidural I reckon I could do it without even trying!”

He’s wrong. He’s bloody wrong. 

  
  
  


It starts off fine; Harry is reliably informed he’s contracting nicely and he’s absolutely bewildered as he watches the trace on the print out going absolutely haywire while feeling almost no discomfort at all. “These things are bloody amazing!”

He’s offered another internal and is soon told that with some manual pushing down on his stomach and forceps for delivery, he could have the baby out within the hour. It seems like there’s no mention of a Caesarean now, and while things are seemingly under control Harry decides not to mention it either.

The attempts at manual delivery are some of the most horrific moments of Harry’s life. He was warned it wouldn’t be dignified, and my God it is not dignified. 

A team of senior doctors (men in shirts and ties rather than midwives in blue scrubs) is dispatched to Harry’s room and set to work trying to get baby out. One is keeping an eye on his blood pressure and on the trace, another is poised between his legs with metal forceps and two more are either side of the bed taking it in turns to shove down on his stomach trying to get the baby to move down the last few inches that are required to deliver.

It doesn’t hurt because everything below his nipples is numb, but the bed is rocking and the doctors are shouting unintelligible jargon at each other and Harry is bloody terrified. He grips the edge of the bed and throws his head back to look at the ceiling, his tears skewing his vision so much that he could almost forget where he was if it wasn’t for… well, everything else.

“This isn’t working,” Harry hears the first doctor shout, and his eyes shoot open.

“We keep going, okay?” Another says firmly, and so the two doctors either side of Harry begin pushing down on his abdomen again.

“Again with the next contraction!” The same doctor shouts, and Harry has a few moments of respite before the third doctor reliably informs the rest that there is another contraction building and it all starts again. 

Harry searches the room for Louis, from his compromised position his view is mainly obscured by doctors, but he can see Louis in the corner of the room with his hands clamped together over his face watching in horror.

“How are we going?”

“We’re not getting much movement here, sir. How’s the trace?”

“We’re getting some decelerations with every contraction, rising again within two seconds,” Another doctor says, and Harry knows that isn’t good. He doesn’t know what it means but he knows it’s not good.

“We try again once more with the next contraction!” The first doctor declares decisively. “Harry, when I say, I need you to push down as hard as you can. We need to get this baby out!”

“Okay!” Harry nods desperately, gasping for air.

With the next contraction he takes a lungful of air and pushes as hard as he can while the two doctors push down between his sternum and his ribs and the doctor with the forceps shouts at them to keep going.

Harry pushes as hard as he can for as long as he can but eventually he gives up, gasping for air. 

The doctor to Harry’s left, reading the trace, puts her hand up. “Sir, this isn’t working! The baby’s heart is dipping with every try; we can’t keep going!”

“Sir?” The other doctor’s look to forceps-doctor for his authority; he’s obviously the one with most seniority

“Let me see the trace,” He demands, moving from the end of the bed to the head of the bed. “Right, yes all in agreement? Dr Sharma, bleep maternity theatre, Dr McGowan, bleep the on call paediatrician, we’re moving to Caesarean section stat!”

They’re on the move in seconds. Harry’s bed is taken off its brakes and he’s rushed down the corridors; all he can see is fluorescent lights passing overhead, all he can sense is the overpowering clinically clean smell in his nostrils and all he can feel is panic sitting heavily in his numb chest.

Harry doesn’t see much of the operating theatre, just the large spotlight on the ceiling and the tops of doctor’s heads. Louis is by his side, garbed up in blue scrubs, gloves, a disposable hat and a face mask. It’s the weirdest sensation. Harry can feel everything, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s like he’s standing off to the side witnessing this all happening to a version of himself from an alternate timeline.

“Sharp scratch,” One doctor says.

“You’ll feel lots of pressure now,” Another says two or three minutes later.

Harry doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath until Louis squeezes his hand and reminds him to breathe.

“Breathe, baby, we’re almost there.”

“I’m scared, Lou.”

“You’re doing so well, Harry. The hardest part is over now, babe.”

Harry grips Louis’ hand tight and closes his eyes. “Keep talking to me, babe. Please?”

Louis doesn’t even stutter. “Imagine if teenage Louis and Harry could see us now, eh? Remember when we fell for Alex? We were so bloody young, eighteen and twenty – as old as Emily is now! I can’t believe I’ve got three beautiful babies with you, babe, soon to be four! I love you so bloody much, always have done. I’m so proud of you. We’ve had the best of times, haven’t we? Remember our first weekend away after Alex was born? Your mum had him for the weekend and we went away to Skegness? And when we went back once we had Jamie? God, I’ve got so many memories with you, baby. I’m so glad that you snuck out of yours at four o’clock in the morning and train-surfed down to Reading and that we were both in the crowd at the same time for Green Day. You can claim all you like that you don’t like Green Day but we both know the truth.”

“I don’t like Green Day,” Harry laughs weakly, eyes still closed. “I saw you by the loos and heard you and your mates talking about it so I followed you there.”

“I’m so glad that you’d got dumped the weekend before so I got the chance to talk to you after their set. I mean, I’m sorry that you got your heart broke ‘n all that, but I’m not really  _ that _ sorry. We were young and stupid and in love, made dopey choices and stupid decisions but I wouldn’t swap it for anything, Haz. I’m so bloody proud to be yours. A few more minutes and our lives will be complete. Any minute now, baby. I love you.”

“And baby is born! Eight minutes past midnight on Sunday the thirteenth November!”

Harry’s eyes shoot open and he follows Louis’ glance to where the forceps-doctor is holding aloft their newly-delivered baby over the privacy screen.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!”

“Oh!” Harry exclaims, overcome with emotion. “Oh Lou, we’ve got a daughter. Lou, she’s perfect!”

“I know, baby!” Louis is equally as emotional as Harry. “She’s beautiful, Harry!”

Louis is interrupted by the raucous first cry of their baby, and he laughs wetly. 

“Get used to that,” One of the nurses smiles. “A lifetime of being interrupted by your daughter!”

Louis laughs. “If she’s anything like her big sister she’ll be shouting before she’s talking!”

Harry and Louis cling to each other as their baby is cleaned, checked and weighed before finally being brought over to Louis for his first cuddle. Harry openly sobs as he lies there, still being delivered of the placenta and yet to be stitched back up, watching as Louis is handed their newborn daughter.

“Hello my beautiful angel!” Louis presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m so happy to finally have you in my arms! I love you so, so much baby girl, you have no idea. See your daddy there?” Louis swivels in his seat and props the baby up towards Harry. 

Her eyes are screwed closed and her cheeks are pink and slightly fuzzy, her lips are pink and pouty and her hair, though not overly thick, is dark like Harry’s own. She’s absolutely bloody perfect.

“Hello my darling,” Harry reaches forward and touches the blanket she’s wrapped in. “I love you so much.”

“Your daddy is the most amazing man in the world, apart from me of course!” Louis says softly with a smile. “For as long as you have us, you’ll always have love.”

“I love you, Lou,” Harry says again, biting his trembling lip. “Thank you for making me a dad.”

Louis grins proudly at their girl and then at Harry. “Thank you for making me a Pop; best job ever.”   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

_Four Hours Later_

The peace and serenity of the Special Care Baby Unit is in such stark contrast of the delivery theatre. Harry’s got his feeling back now; he’s sore and covered in bruises and feels like he’ll never get better, but he’s doing okay. All of the panic and all of the noise of the past twelve hours or so are gone and it’s just Harry, Louis and their baby. Their daughter.

Five pounds and ten ounces of pure perfection and still nameless, their daughter lies peacefully in her cot, an NG tube helping her feed and a ventilation tube helping her to breathe. A board runs the length of her tiny little arm keeping the cannula in the back of her dainty little hand, and a little knitted hat is keeping her head warm. 

They’ve had it all explained to them; apart from her slightly small size given the fact she was premature, there’s nothing really wrong with her, the Special Care admission is merely as a precaution. Still, Harry’s heart beats a little quicker when he looks around and sees all the other sick babies in their cots; his heart aches for all the families surrounding these tiny people. Some aren’t as lucky as he and Louis, apparently. 

Harry’s in a hospital-issued wheelchair and Louis is in a hospital-issued armchair, neither of them able to take their eyes off the newest member of the family. It’s still dark out and the lights are turned down low in the unit; the soft rhythmic beeping of the machines is relaxing until Harry remembers why they’re beeping in the first place.

“She’s so little,” Harry whispers. Louis looks up at him and smiles. “So little but such a big part of our lives already.”

“We’re so lucky.” Louis agrees. “How are you feeling, love?”

“I’m all right,” Harry nods. “Bit sore, bit stiff. But I’ll be okay.”

“You’re so brave,” Louis smiles. “That belly pushing looked brutal.”

“It was!” Harry winces as the tiny bit of exertion sends a stabbing pain through his new war wound. “God, don’t make me laugh, I feel like I’m gonna split in half in the middle!”

“Sorry babe,” Louis shuffles forward in his seat and peers in closer at their baby. “So, any ideas on names for this little beauty, love?”

“God, I hadn’t even thought of that…”

“I must admit, I’ve got a couple of ideas.”

“That’s lucky, ‘cause all I had were boy names.”

“I mean… we were gonna use Alex regardless of –ander or –andra weren’t we. Why don’t you shout some of your ideas and we’ll see what we can do?”

“William, Joseph, Teddy?”

“William’s a shit name,” Louis’ laughs at his middle-moniker. “Joseph…ine? Nah, don’t like that. What about Teddy? Teddy could work.” He reaches in and rubs his thumb across the baby’s cheek. “Theodora Tomlinson? Hmmm, are you a Teddy? Hmm… nah, nah that’s a bit hipster, I think.”

“Samuel? Or, y’know, Samantha?”

Louis looks up. “Bit of a mouthful isn’t it? Imagine the poor dot when she’s learning to spell her name in school. She’ll give up before the second A.”

“Sam?” Harry suggests. “Bit short, isn’t it?”

“What about… what about Sammie?” Louis suggests. “It’s cute, it’s different. Sammie Tomlinson. I like that.”

“Sammie?” Harry questions. “Yeah, yeah I think I like that a lot.”

“Then it’s settled. Sammie Tomlinson.” Louis smiles in at baby Sammie. “Wait, what about a middle name?”

“God… we’ve kind of exhausted family names haven’t we. We’ve already used both our mum’s names.”

“Sisters… well I’ve got a ridiculous amount so I couldn’t pick just one. Plus, Sammie Gemma just sounds a bit ridiculous with all those M’s – no offence.”

Harry smiles – doesn’t laugh though. That’s too dangerous. “None taken.”

“Maybe she doesn’t need a middle name?” Louis ponders. “Middle names are overrated anyway.”

“Well…” Harry says, an idea hitting him suddenly. “I might have an idea? A name I’ve always liked, well for a long time, at least.”

“Okay…”

“Lou.”

“Yeah?” Louis glances up, waiting for Harry to continue.

“No,” Harry grins. “I mean that’s the middle name; Lou!”

Louis makes a face. “Seriously?” Harry nods. “Sammie Lou?”

“Pretty nifty, eh?” Harry says with a smirk.

“Nifty?!” Louis snorts. “I’ll overlook that, seeing as though you’ve just given birth to my daughter. But yes… I would of course be honoured to make this little beauty my namesake.”

  
  
  


Sammie starts to stir a little while later. Louis and Harry look up at one another in horror, realising at the exact same moment that they’re both horrendously out of practice when it comes to newborns; especially one as tiny and brand new as Sammie.

Thankfully, one of the nursery nurses is over like a shot. “Hello, my name’s Lucie; you two look like you could do with some help?”

“Thanks, yeah we’re… we’re a bit out of practice.”

Lucie grins, kindly enough but like she’s got them all sussed out. “First time parents?”

Harry’s feathers are ruffled and Louis immediately senses it and looks over at him. “No, fourth time parents, actually.”

Lucie is obviously surprised. “Wow! Four kids? That’s amazing! Where are they, with grandma and granddad?”

“Erm, not exactly,” Louis jumps in with a nervous chuckle. “They’re twenty six, twenty two and twenty, so I think they’re all probably taking care of themselves right about now! Little Sammie is an unexpected but perfect bonus addition to what we thought was our completed family.”

“Wow, that’s crazy, I’m twenty six! You two could be my dads!” Lucie enthuses, which is the final nail in the coffin for Harry.

“We’re a bit worried because of all of Sammie’s wires and things, and I’ve just had a C-Section; could you uh, could you help my husband with picking her up?”

Lucie is the consummate professional when handling baby Sammie; she makes it look easy. She peels back the blanket, nestles one hand under Sammie’s body and one under her shoulders and expertly lift her, keeping her close to her body until safe passage to Harry is made.

Harry can’t quite believe the little miracle he is holding in his arms is real. Her peach fuzz skin is so soft and the heavy set frown on her resting features is all Louis, he can already tell.

“Lou, she looks just like you, babe!”

Louis laughs easily. “Poor girl!”

Lucie and Louis chat but Harry is one hundred per cent focussed on Sammie. She feels light as a feather but also solid in his arms; she’s tangible and she’s really here after all these months of waiting for her, all these weeks of being silently terrified that something awful was going to happen. “I love you,” He whispers to her as he presses the pad of his thumb ever so gently over her brow.

When Harry peers up, he realises Louis is alone now, phone in hand. 

“I’m gonna send this to the kids,” He says, turning the screen to Harry. He has snapped a picture of them together, Sammie nestled in his arms and the proudest look Harry has ever seen on a person. “Is that all right? I know Em’s dying to know.”

“Yeah, of course, send away!” Harry grins, turning back to their daughter. “We’re sending your first ever picture to your big brothers and big sister, Sammie! Isn’t that exciting? They’re all so excited to meet you, little darling.”

  
  
  


Everything is fine until exhaustion hits Harry. Louis sets about preparing to get him back to his hospital bed, but when Harry realises that Sammie isn’t coming with them he breaks down. The full body sobs as a result of extreme tiredness and a hormonal rush rip absolute agony through his body and the nurses are across the room in seconds. 

Harry is whisked away in his wheelchair, no idea if Louis is with him or not, and he’s too dizzy and nauseous to notice what is going on. The next thing he knows, it is some hours later and he’s back in his room, completely engulfed in silence. Harry’s eyes crack open slowly and he blinks away his confusion. He tries to speak but his mouth is dry and his tongue furry. He tries to sit up but is reminded of his incapacity and gives up quickly. Turning his head towards the light at the window, he realises it’s a flood light, not the daytime sun. Then he realises the sky beyond the glass is a milky navy blue, and the room is darkened. He turns the other way and sees the lights of the ward outside his room are dimmed, and there’s Louis in the corner sitting awkwardly in the arm chair, his hoodie unzipped and draped over his body, his arms crossed over his body and his head drooped over. He looks terrible.

“Lou?” Harry croaks, lifting his hand from under the blanket and reaching out, but his fingertips don’t stretch far enough to reach Louis. He coughs weakly and tries again. “Lou? Baby?”

Louis stirs; it doesn’t take him long to wake, probably due to the poor quality of his sleeping arrangement.

“What happened?”

Louis straightens his back out and runs a hand through his messy hair. “We were visiting Sammie, and I think… I think it just got too much. Exhaustion just overcame you. They brought you back here and you were pretty much passed out before they got you out of the wheelchair. That was about midday-ish?”

“What time is it now?”

“Just gone ten, love.”

“Ten at night?” Harry balks. “That means Sammie has been on her own all day!”

Louis pauses before he answers. “No, I… I went back down for an hour while you were sleeping. She’s absolutely grand, love. Didn’t even notice we’d gone!”

“Did I miss anything? Did you tell her I was coming back?”

“Yeah, I told her that you were just having a lie down ‘cause you were tired from bringing her into the world. I think she understood. She’s a very reasonable girl, Haz.” Louis grins. “Not like her Pop.”

“Did I miss anything?” Harry asks again, and he sees Louis shift uncomfortably. “Lou?”

“No, nothing major, babe. They were giving her a feed when I got there.”

“What, through her tube?”

“Um… no, no they were trying her with a bottle. She seemed to be- oh c’mon love, it’s okay! Don’t cry!”

Harry is reeling from Louis’ admission, from realising he’s missed one of the first milestones. “Why didn’t they wait for me?!”

“Harry, she needed feeding there and then, they couldn’t wait!”

“Why not?!” Harry wails, completely unjustifiable in his objections but he’s too drugged up to realise. “I should’ve been there! She should be here with me, she’s my baby!”

“Harry, you’ve done an amazing thing today. Not even twenty four hours ago you had emergency surgery after spending a whole day in labour, and at your age that’s quite the achievement, I’m not being funny. You needed the rest!”

“But I missed her first proper feed, Lou, do you not understand?”

“Maybe so, but you missed it for a good reason! There’ll be plenty more! Hell, I only arrived a few minutes before the end!”

“Don’t you get it, Lou? I should’ve been there! I’ve let her down and you- you shouldn’t have let them take me away!”

“So what was I supposed to say, _‘no, step aside nurses, I’m in charge here, I know what’s best?’_ No! Sorry Harry but I’m literally not arguing with you over this! You’ve done nothing wrong, I’ve done nothing wrong. You’re in no fit state to be getting this worked up.”

Louis is right, and Harry knows it. He has to give up at that point because the monitor that he is hooked up to is starting to bleep a little faster, and Louis leaps to his feet, looking at it with a worried frown. The next thing he knows, a nurse is barging into the room.

“What’s going on?” She asks, looking straight to Louis. 

“He’s just woken up and he’s got himself a bit worked up.”

“His heart rate is accelerating, pulse is on the up; blood pressure is raised but stable. How long has he been awake?”

“Not long, only about five minutes or so! I was asleep too and he woke me up, I don’t know!”

“Does he have any past medical history of seizures, panic attacks, that sort of thing?”

“Panic attacks, yes!” Louis exclaims, and Harry can hear the conversation but it’s not making any sense to him. He feels muddled yet frantic, like an anvil has been dumped on his chest. Things start to get a little hazy, and once again, the next thing he knows it’s completely silent and dark in the room. This time though, Louis is awake and sitting up in the armchair, still hunched over but this time drenched in the bluish light of his phone screen.

“Lou?” Harry whispers, and Louis glances up, the screen light making his eyes glow. It also accentuates the purple bruise-like shadows under his eyes too. “Did I make a fool of myself?”

Louis locks his phone, slips it into his pocket and shuffles forward in his seat. “No, of course you didn’t,” He smiles softly and reaches for Harry’s hand, mindful of the cannula sticking out of it. “You’re so brave, my love. But you’re so poorly as well. I need you well so as soon as we’re able to we can take little Sammie home.”

“I’m sorry for… for acting like a knob,” Harry says, finding any exertion a real effort. 

“It’s all right,” Louis grins. “I’ll let you off. You have just given birth to my child. Oh, speaking of which, I went up to the Special Care when you fell asleep and they said that it’s looking as if Sammie won’t need her ventilator after tomorrow. They’re keeping her on it overnight and then tomorrow they’re gonna do a trial for an hour or so without it. If she looks like she’s doing okay, they will wheel her cot round to the room so you can see her.”

Harry can feel his bottom lip going. “Ah, really? Oh Lou, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I don’t reckon it’ll be long before she’s ready to come home. She’s a little fighter already.”

Harry can feel his chest swelling with pride. “I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” Louis grins broadly. “Anyway, I think I’m gonna go home for a while and let us both get some proper sleep. It’s already _waaay_ past visiting hours.”

“Okay,” Harry nods, though he wishes he could offer Louis space in his bed. “Will you find my phone for me before you leave so I can call you if I need you?”

“Of course,” Louis gets up and uses the torch on his own phone to find Harry’s. “Turn your data on, I’ve sent some photos to your WhatsApp. They should keep you going ‘til tomorrow.”

“Thanks babe,” Harry takes his phone. “I’m sorry again for being stupid earlier; I really love you.”

“I’ve told you not to worry about that!” Louis chastises softly. “Oh, by the way, “I’ll be a bit late tomorrow, the cot and the pushchair are being delivered between eight and twelve, and I’ve gotta finish the washing and put petrol in the car, so there’s a chance I might not be here til about two-ish, depending on the deliveries. I’ll try to be as early as I can, though.”

“Okay,” Harry nods acceptingly but his heart sinks. “But what if they bring Sammie round? Or let me go there?”

“Then go, sweetheart, don’t worry about me. I’ll be here as soon as I can for cuddles.”

  
  
  


Harry falls asleep clutching his phone. He’s gently roused for observation checks at one, three and five AM, and then the breakfast cart is brought around with the seven AM checks. Harry devours the buttery toast and tea that he didn’t think he fancied and realises then how bloody hungry he is. The kindly lady pushing the breakfast cart finds him a satsuma and a jelly pot from the chiller and he chows them down too, before finding his phone and texting Louis good morning, and more importantly, to ask him if he can bring some snacks with him later.

After the breakfast rush there’s no sign of any doctor, nurse or midwife for an almost an hour, typically. Harry is itching for an update from down the corridor in Special Care, and he’s not quite stable enough to make his own way there yet so has to rely on others. 

After what feels like forever, someone shows up to check whether his bed sheets need changing and he asks them to get in touch with Special Care to see if he can be taken round to see Sammie. He is still waiting when a picture message comes through from Louis depicting a massive pile of boxes and delivery bags in their hallway. Regret and jealousy pang through Harry as he thinks of Louis at home getting Sammie’s stuff set up without him, but he pushes it aside and sends back a couple of heart-eyes emojis. Emojis are one area where Harry refuses to act his age. 

He’s scrolling through the pictures Louis sent him when a doctor he recognises from Special Care taps softly on the door and lets himself in.

“Hi Harry, I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Dr Alrawi, Consultant Paediatrician. I’m the doctor in charge of your lovely little daughter’s care down the corridor in Special Care.” 

“Hi doctor, yes I recognised you! Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Lovely. Well, I was just popping by to give you an update on her ventilation status, is now a good time?”

“Yes, definitely. I don’t have anything to do except lie here!”

Dr Alrawi smiles. “I was speaking with your husband last evening, Louis, I believe?” Harry nods. “I hope that he was able to pass on my message to you. Baby girl is doing wonderfully; it’s lovely to see. She’s coped wonderfully overnight with her additional oxygen, and she fed at eleven, two, five and around seven thirty this morning, I believe. Since her morning feed she’s been without her oxygen and she’s doing wonderfully.”

“Oh that’s fantastic-” Harry grins, tears pricking in his eyes. He gestures to his face, feeling foolish. “Sorry…” 

Dr Alrawi has a beaming smile; Harry is more than a little taken with him. He tells Harry not to worry if he gets a little emotional; it’s all part of the process. He says that when Louis arrives, Harry can call the nurse who will arrange for them to be taken round to Special Care to spend some time with Sammie. Harry thanks him profusely and then sits in his bed anxiously waiting for Louis. 

At quarter past eleven Louis is about three-quarters of the way through assembling the cot, and Harry does his best to stay calm. At twenty to twelve Louis confirms that he’s done with the cot and he’s been out testing out the car seat. Harry is giddy with excitement at the prospect but also just wants Louis to hurry the fuck up. Finally, at five past twelve, Louis confirms that he’s on his way to the petrol station and then will be on his way. Then follows the longest wait Harry feels like he’s ever had; he’s sure Louis has taken the scenic route through every traffic light in South Yorkshire. 

When Louis finally arrives, he’s brought a multipack of Walkers crisps, drinks, a packet of biscuits and a sandwich from Tesco’s chiller, with a bag of Maltesers for good measure, so Harry can forgive him for taking ages. Harry had taken it upon himself to ring for the nurse when he knew Louis was just heading into the hospital car park, so when someone shows up, Louis has arrived and helped Harry out of bed and into the arm chair next to his bed, ready to go. 

Sammie is dressed in a new outfit and her hat is gone, showing off her fluffy brown hair. Most monumental of all though is her little face minus her oxygen tube. Harry stands at her bedside stroking her cheek and talking to her while Louis and a nurse find them two chairs, then as soon as he’s seated the same nurse lifts Sammie out and carefully places her in Harry’s arms. 

“She’s due a feed; would you like to help, dad?” 

Harry jumps at the chance, and so someone brings him a pillow to rest his arm on and a tiny little disposable bottle with a small amount of milk in, and he sits with the nurse giving Sammie a feed. The nurse tells him that she’s doing really well with her bottle feeds, and that her rooting and sucking reflexes seem to be in good working order. Harry looks over at Louis in wonderment as Sammie guzzles her milk down like she’s worried it’s going to be taken from her at any moment. 

  
  
  


Harry soon finds that despite his concerns, having a new baby isn’t too dissimilar to when he had Emily or the boys. They spend most of the afternoon with Sammie, carefully passing her between them for cuddles and Louis gives her another feed two or so hours after the first. When evening falls and Harry’s body is starting to succumb to the effects the surgery has had on it, they place her carefully back in her cot with kisses to her cheeks and the promise that her Pop will be back for more cuddles later on. 

Having spent the day on the Unit and seeing the all comings and goings, Harry feels comfortable leaving Sammie in the nursery’s care for a few hours while he goes back and rests; he knows he has to rest to get better, and he can’t leave before he’s better. This time, he forgoes his wheelchair and shuffles slowly back to the ward with Louis by his side gripping his hand firmly. By the time he gets to his bed he’s whimpering in pain and so glad to be horizontal again for a while.

Harry ends up staying put for the rest of the evening on the doctor’s orders; he’s drugged up to the eyeballs on pain killers, anti-sickness medication and laxatives, and there’s even talk of him having a blood transfusion if he doesn’t perk up soon. 

Louis stays by his side until visiting hours end, at which point they share a poignant kiss and he then goes off to be with Sammie for an hour before going home. Harry closes his eyes and lays there listening to the bustle of the ward, and some time later he realises it’s quietened down and the lights outside the door have dimmed. 

  
  
  


The next few days seem to all blend into one. Harry tries to focus on getting better and letting himself rely on the nurses to help take care of Sammie. He manages to avoid the blood transfusion that had been mentioned earlier in the week, and by around Thursday or Friday he’s starting to feel a bit more like himself; able to stand up right and not feel like he’s going to tear open when he coughs or laughs.

Sammie does really well apart from a spell through the night one evening when someone from Special Care comes to Harry’s room to tell him that they’ve put her back on oxygen for a few hours. Harry panics, obviously, but they let him in to see her so he can see for himself that she is fine, just a little wheezy, and her premature little lungs aren’t quite up to it. 

Nevertheless, despite everything they bring Sammie home on Sunday the twentieth of November, after a week in hospital. The ward don’t usually do weekend discharges, but Harry has charmed them. Or at least, he likes to think that’s why they’ve bent the rules a little for him.

Now the fun _really_ begins.  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

_ Fifteen Days Later _

It’s December fifth, the day Harry has been dreading; their last day home as a trio before Louis goes back to work tomorrow. Harry tries not to think about it too much because he’ll start crying again, and he doesn’t want to spend their last full day together crying and snotting in bed. He did enough of that yesterday.

The two weeks of Louis’ paternity leave have flown by and Harry doesn’t feel ready for solo parenting. He doesn’t feel he’ll  _ ever _ be ready for solo parenting. The past fortnight has whirled past in a flurry of nappy changes, feeding problems, visiting family and sneaking ten minutes of shut eye here and there while Sammie naps. Harry doesn’t remember  _ any _ of his children being as sleep-phobic as Sammie is.

They’ve wisely spent the last few days trying to get into some semblance of a routine with Sammie, but it is a very loose routine that nine times out of ten goes completely out the window by ten AM. 

Currently it’s half past nine and Harry is propped up in bed with five pillows behind him feeding Sammie while Louis showers. The washing machine is going downstairs, the tumble dryer is drying the previous load and the dishwasher is erasing the evidence of an accumulation of three days’ worth of dirty dishes. The house still resembles a bombsite but Sammie is still alive and he and Louis aren’t getting divorced, so Harry counts it as a win. 

When Louis gets out of the shower he takes Sammie and Harry showers. He’s not showered since Friday - or was it Thursday? – so he takes a few minutes extra just to stand under the warm spray and close his eyes. He should feel guilt ridden that he’s revelling in being away from his daughter for a few minutes but really he can’t. He knows that Sammie is safe and happy in Louis’ care; the world won’t combust without him for a short while. 

“I’m taking Sammie downstairs, love!” Louis calls through the door, right on cue.

“Okay!” Harry shouts back, immediately reaching for his deep conditioning hair mask with a smug grin.

  
  
  


Freshly showered and with a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich in him, Harry feels suspiciously good. Sammie is snoozing on Louis’ chest, miraculously, and the idea of Louis not being here tomorrow to help out fills Harry with dread, but he pushes it away. He’s got a few hours yet before he needs to start worrying.

“Haz?” Louis murmurs without looking up. “Can I talk to you about something, love?”

An uncomfortable knot twists through Harry’s chest. “Yeah? What is it?”

Louis leans in and nuzzles Sammie’s cheek before responding. “I don’t know if you remember, but a couple of weeks ago Alex phoned, and I was on the phone to him for ages?”

Harry nods uneasily. “Yeah, I remember.” Harry can remember feeling very put out that Alex couldn’t wait to get Harry off the phone but spent over half an hour chatting with his Pop.

“He uh… something happened, Harry, and he wants me to tell you.”

Harry’s heart rate immediately spikes and his palms go clammy. “What do you mean something happened? Louis, tell me what’s happened to my son!”

Sammie jumps on Louis’ chest and whimpers slightly. Louis soothes her back and she settles down again. “Calm down love, he’s fine! Everyone’s fine now.”

“Now?!” Harry demands as calmly as he can, considering he’s in full on panic mode now. “What happened, Lou? Tell me now!”

“Okay, so… God, about five months ago now, Alex and Claire found out they were pregnant…” Harry clamps his hand to his mouth with a gasp. “Hang on. So, they were waiting until their scan to tell us. That day came and uh, H, they lost their baby. Claire had miscarried sometime before the scan.”

“Oh God no,” Harry can feel his heart making its way up his throat. “Why would he tell  _ you _ but not me?” 

Louis looks hurt but Harry doesn’t register that in the heat of the moment. “He didn’t want to worry you, love! There just was never a good time to tell you, with how poorly you were at the end of pregnancy, and then Sammie coming early and the two of you being so poorly!”

Harry lifts his hands and slots them into his hair. The little baby hairs around his temples tug and he winces. “But he told you! You went through exactly what I went through! Why you and not me? Why not both of us?”

Louis is caught under a sleeping baby, so what might’ve escalated into a row under normal circumstances fizzles out to some tense words with tiredness but no hate behind them. “I… I don’t know, love, okay? I’m not Alex, I can’t answer that! But what I do know is it would mean the world to him to get a call from his old man.”

All the fight deflates out of Harry then. Louis is completely right. There’s no use arguing over who told who what first, he needs to be there for his son. Harry hides his face in the neckline of his t-shirt and wipes his teary eyes. 

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go and call him upstairs. Are you okay to stay with Sammie?”

“Of course, love,” Louis smiles delicately, reaching out to brush his fingers through Harry’s as he passes. “Take your time.”

  
  
  


Harry stares down at his phone at Alex’s contact, wondering why he’s struggling so bloody much to just press dial and call his son. When wishing that Alex will just magically sense it and call Harry himself fails, Harry realises that he’s just going to have to put his brave face on and take the plunge himself.

Every shrill ring while he waits for Alex to answer is like a punch in the face.

“Hello?”

Harry’s stomach flips. “H-hiya mate, it’s- it’s dad.”

Alex laughs softly. “I know, dad, it comes up on the screen.”

“Oh yeah, of course!” Harry clamps a hand around the back of his neck. “Look Lexie, I uh, I’ve been a shit dad to you over the past few months; I’ve been too caught up with my pregnancy and then with Sammie… I haven’t been there for my biggest babies, especially you and Claire. I’m so sorry, Alex, I’m so sorry that I made you feel you couldn’t talk to me. I never want to make you feel like that again, any of you. Okay?”

“I guess Pop told you about the miscarriage then?”

“Yeah he did, and I feel like complete shit that I’ve let you down, darling; you and Claire. I’m sorry you had to go through that on your own. I can’t even imagine.”

“Dad, no it’s okay, honestly. We… we just didn’t know when to tell you, there was never a right time. Initially we just didn’t want to steal your thunder, then you started having problems with Sammie and we didn’t want to add more stress. I spoke to Pop and in the end Claire convinced me to tell him because… well, we were pretty low for a while.”

“Oh, my sweetheart-”

“We’re okay now dad, I promise. Hey, did y’know it happens to 1 in 4 families? We’re just another statistic.”

“You’re not just another statistic, Lex, you and Claire are gonna be so much stronger because of this. If you can get through something like this you can get through anything.”

“Yeah, I think we’ll be all right, dad.” Alex says. “We’re keeping positive.”

They chat for much longer than expected. It’s cathartic; as much as he is in love with his new baby and spending every moment soaking up the new experiences, Harry really needs to let his mind be elsewhere for a while. He chats to Claire too for a while and it’s reassuring to hear that they both sound as if they’re handling their heartbreak well. 

When he hears Sammie’s cries from downstairs Harry realises how long he’s been upstairs. He excuses himself with promises of having Claire and Alex round for tea soon and then he waddles carefully back downstairs. 

Louis is stood by the window bobbing Sammie around on his chest and tapping her back softly with his palm in rhythm with his steps. “Hi love.”

“Hey,” Harry manages a small smile. “Is she okay?” 

Sammie is periodically wailing, and Harry can see her bottle on the window sill cooling down in a jug of water. 

“She will be in two or three minutes when her milk has cooled down!” Louis smiles grimly. “How’s Lexie?”

“He’s fine- Louis, look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for flipping out at you, and acting as if I’m more important than you.”

Louis snorts. “You  _ are _ more important than me, babe. You’re the kids’ dad; you gave life to all of them. Don’t think for one minute that you’re not important. Alex just… I dunno, I guess I was just there at the right time, right place. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

“I know,” Harry agrees, cutting across the lounge to his husband and baby daughter. He leans in and kisses Louis. “I’ll feed her.”

They exchange the baby and Louis heads to the kitchen to make them another cuppa. 

  
  
  


Harry doesn’t sleep well that night, struggling to switch off between the night feeds. By the time the morning comes and Louis’ alarm is going off, Harry’s barely had more than an hour and a half of sleep. Louis creeps about in the darkness trying not to disturb Sammie, though less than ten minutes after Harry hears the front door close, Sammie is grizzling.

They make it through the day, though. All Harry really does is prepare bottles of formula and change a criminal amount of dirty nappies, but he does manage to get three minutes to himself to make Supernoodles and a ham sandwich for his lunch. When Louis gets home at half five he’s got a bottle of Prosecco from the girls at work with strict instructions for the both of them to indulge in a glass to celebrate their new addition, and miraculously Sammie falls asleep after her eight o’clock bottle and sleeps all the way until half past eleven, giving them plenty of time to enjoy a glass of bubbly with their tea.

  
  
  


Wednesday is a little bit easier than Tuesday, and on Thursday it’s Emily’s twenty first birthday. It’s too cold for a barbecue like they did for Alex, and Emily’s not really the pub sort so the three big kids, Sammie, Louis and Harry have a little tea party at the house on Thursday evening in celebration. 

  
  
  


Two and a half weeks later, it’s Christmas Eve and Louis’ birthday; his first as a father of four. Harry is feeling much better now; his Caesarean section scar seems to be on its way to well-healed and they seem to have semi-cracked a sleeping routine for Sammie, with the little one having her last feed at around eleven PM and sleeping right the way through until five thirty AM. 

With it being Sammie’s first Christmas it’s an exciting time but they also know that realistically it’s ridiculous to spend megabucks on presents, so they keep it civilised, but taking all of the wrapped boxes out of the loft on Christmas Eve and placing them under the tree ahead of bedtime is still magical.

“Happy birthday again, darling.” Harry whispers once they’re in bed, for probably the fiftieth time today. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, but if you dare mention the F-S word again, I’ll have to kill you!” Louis grins. He’s referencing the fact that he is now forty seven, and Harry has revelled in reminding him periodically that at forty four, Harry is practically a spring chicken compared to him. 

“If you kill me you’ll have to find someone else to keep you company and give you kisses!”

“I’d fine someone else, I’m sure.” Louis smirks.

“Oh, is that so?” Harry asks, leaning in to kiss Louis before he can come up with any more smart remarks. They can’t take things any further because Sammie is still sharing their room with them and they’ve both explicitly agreed that it’d be weird, so they settle for a bit of snogging before drawing apart and letting their mutual interest go down before settling into much needed sleep.

  
  
  


Sammie wakes at around quarter past six, giving her daddies a very welcomed Christmas lie-in. However, in those forty-five minutes she’s clearly become very hungry because she roars at the top of her lungs for her bottle until it’s ready. 

Once she’s fed and dozing in her cot again, Harry and Louis decide between them it’s too early to go downstairs yet, so they make the most of a little while longer in bed, finally venturing downstairs with Sammie at eight AM. 

Sammie, obviously, is unaware of what today is but she is transfixed by a scrap of wrapping paper that Harry had ‘helped’ her tear off one of her presents. They’ve got her a play mat, a teddy bear, some new clothes and a couple of sensory toys for her next developmental milestones, and she spends some time looking at herself in one of the toys’ mirrored sides before gazing up at the Christmas tree light for a while and then starting to cry again.

Over the Christmas period, they get around to all the family. The kids drop in sporadically throughout the day on Christmas Eve, and Harry, Louis and Sammie spend Christmas Day together just the three of them, with Gemma and her boys dropping in for a few hours in the evening. They spend Boxing Day with Anne and then come home just in time to catch up with Lottie and FaceTime with the twins and Fiz. 

Finally, on Boxing Day night when everyone has gone home and Sammie is laying in her bouncing chair smacking her fists and kicking her legs contentedly, Harry and Louis can finally curl up on the sofa together and relax.

Louis pecks Harry’s cheek. “This isn’t where I expected my life would be at last year, but I’m bloody glad it is.” 

Harry grins. “Me too, baby. There’s no one I’d rather be here with.”

“Same here, babe. Now, shall we open our card from Alex?”

“Yeah,” Harry grins enthusiastically. He’s been itching to open it all evening. He watches with bated breath as Louis tears into the red envelope, anticipation at fever pitch. He wills himself not to get too excited but he spots the gold glittery writing on the front of the card and he can’t help but squeal.

Louis pulls the card from the torn paper and holds it up, gasping too. The card is ‘to my grandparents at Christmas’ and from inside an ultrasound scan image falls out. Harry squeaks as he sees Claire’s name in the corner and Christmas Eve’s date.

Inside the card in Claire’s beautiful handwriting, is a message to them both:

_ ‘To Grampy and Grandpop, _

_ Merry Christmas! I can’t wait to meet you! _

_ Lots of love, _

_ Baby Tomlinson-Walker _

_ Due July 2023’ _

  
  
  
  


**_THE END._ **


End file.
